


Intertwined

by Leenden



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 08:21:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 55,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10407909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leenden/pseuds/Leenden
Summary: For Princess Roslynda and her bodyguard Lyr, life is pretty much the same every day. Training before breakfast, studies by midday, and riding lessons in the evening. Until one day, a strange masked man invades their home, ripping everything away from them. Their fear is fully when they discover that the attack wasn’t politically motivated, but a personal vendetta. The masked man knows who they are and wants them dead, but why?





	1. With a Flash of a Smile

Blinding flash of spring’s early morning sun caught the metal of his armor as he moved to avoid the attack. Parry, his mind warned him and his hand followed like a sheep to the shepherd. He felt the smoothed edge of his protective chest plate rub against the inside of his bicep. It didn’t hurt, at least not anymore. Older now, he had muscles there to protect from its bite.

The soft earth shifted underfoot as he added to his smooth battle dance. The weight of his chest plate had once made him slow. Had once made him an easy target but now his legs were strong, his back too and he moved with ease against the weight of his protective chest plate.

Another parry, strike! His mind focused on how he should proceed. His hand did as it was told because that was the way of things. Jab and a wide arc, swing and a miss, his mind admonished, followed by the inevitable thunk of wood versus metal. The attack struck Lyr on the side. If the opponent’s blade was made of metal, then he’d be bleeding. Luckily, it was only a sparring match this time.

Another flash of light caught his gaze. This one came from a set of wicked pearly fangs amidst a set of plump pink lips. The smile teased him. It was responsible for her beautiful emerald eyes disappearing beneath her lashes. It was a good strike, one worthy of praise, yet Lyr wasn’t sure he should be angry or not. No, he couldn’t be, not with her smiling at him like that.

The ginger cat stood across the field of battle; she flourished her blade in a victory dance before striking the pose of a well-trained knight. Her blade rested across her chest. It was a symbol, a salute of respect from soldier to captain. Captain? Lyr’s mind chastised the thought. Twenty years old and not an ounce of real-world combat experience between his ears. Even entertaining the slightest idea of being a captain was blasphemy to those that came before.

Still, Lyr smiled and returned the salute before slipping down to one knee and holding up the hilt of his wooden sword to the victor. The ginger cat touched her lips, stunned by the offer. A giggle slipped free as she graciously and gracefully took the blade.

Even amidst her tattered play clothes and worn soldier’s armor, there was a beauty. Her thin feminine, yet barely womanly frame filled Lyr’s old training armor almost perfectly. Her plume of wavy apricot hair threatened to tear free from the moppish bun that rested atop her head. It was endearing to see her highness so disheveled after a morning of play.

“What a glorious strike, Princess Roslynda.” A thick voice called from the edge of the courtyard.

Both the ginger cat and the calico looked away from each other towards the voice. A large man strode across the way. His polished leather boots sunk heavily into the morning dew soaked earth. His large Maine Coon ruffle was barely contained by velvet collar of his courtly garb. The scarlet fabric of his tunic was accented with maroon and trimmed in gold. It showed beautifully against the dark wavy grays of his thick fur. He stood before them with his broad chest out. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword at his hip. The other hand held slacked with his thumb tucked in the decorative belt across his midsection.

“Alteir,” The princess spoke coyly. “How many times must I tell you to call me Rose?”

His large amber eyes, shifted from the calico boy, still on his knees, to the Princess that stood before him in prestige. A smile found its way to his dark lips; it only worked to punctuate his long white fangs.

“For as long as I live. I shall never reduce your status by referring to you as your pet name.” His voice rumbled on an affectionate purr.

“Master tactician first, Godfather second, as always.” Rose giggled and did a curtsy.

Alteir responded with a bow. “As always, now let me have a look at you.” He swiveled his head on a thick neck as if studying her. “Odds blood, child. You’re the visage of Queen Victoria, god rest her soul.”

“Thank you,” Rose smiled. Her chest was so full of pride it strained against the old leather armor. “I like to think my mother would be proud.”

“Even in her absence, you know your mother well.” Alteir’s sharp pupils looked down to Lyr, who hadn’t moved an inch. “Though, I don’t think she would much care for this ragamuffin you pal around with. Come on, boy, get up and let me have a look at you!”

“Yes, father.”

“I’m sorry,” Rose gasped, having forgotten about Lyr still on his knees. She rushed to help him up. “I completely forgot about you.”

Rose had no trouble pulling the calico to his feet. Even under the weight of his armor and his newly formed muscles. Even for his age, he was still thin and favored a much younger man physique. The shifting caused his mop of his orange hair tapered from white roots, to fall down over one of his yellow eyes. The other one was encircled by an orange patch of fur. They were the same orange patches that littered the entirety of his lanky form beneath his clothes.

“It’s all well and good, Rose. Never draw attention from royalty, they always say.” The boy’s voice was soft like cotton linens on a freshly made bed. It also betrayed how old he actually was. “A princess should never apologize to her underlings.”

“Not true, Lyr. A princess should always be willing learn from her mistakes. It shows she had faith in her people and is willing to learn.” The contest, if it could be called that, yet again tilted in Rose’s favor.

“Well said, Rose. It’s nice to see your lessons resonate with you so soundly.” Alteir smirked.

“Lessons, yes, but they’re my mother’s lessons that ring the loudest. Not the ones Simon forces me to endure.” Rose smirked in spite of herself.

“Forcing you to endure?” Another voice came from the direction of the door that led from the courtyard.

Lyr looked around Alteir’s broad frame to the cat that strode across the lawn in a delicate fashion. The nasally tone belonged to a black cat, impossibly thin beneath his pearl and plum courtly garbs. A pair of gold-rimmed spectacles was pinched onto the bridge of his nose, most likely the cause of the hum in his nasal cavity.

“I assure you, having you ignore my forced lectures day after day is no picnic for me either, Princess Roslynda.” The cat smiled warmly, in spite of the acid in his voice.

“I apologize for my careless words, Simon.” Rose recovered.

“No need. My wife never lets me forget how boring I am in my old age.” Simon chuckled.

“Hm, just in your old age, huh?” Alteir added, earning the ire of the professor’s pointed glare.

“Piss off, old…der man.” Simon pricked back.

Alteir rested a strong hand on the smaller male’s shoulder. They both shared the laugh of age-old friendship. It pushed a smile to Lyr and Rose’s lips. Their family-like banter felt warm like a hearth around the holidays. Lyr knew Alteir had been with the kingdom for a long time. He’d grown up alongside Simon and King Reiner; they were schoolmate or something like that, back in the day. When Reiner took the throne, he appointed them to his court the first day.

“It’s good to see you, old friend,” Simon smirked. “Please come by and see Margret when you get the chance, she’s missed you something awful.”

“Yes, I’ve been away often of late.” Alteir pulled at his chin fur. “I will. Tell her I’ll be by this evening.”

“She’s making lamb joint in a wine sauce, it should be spectacular.” Simon snickered.

“Odds blood, that woman can cook. How do you stay so thin?” Alteir rubbed his flat belly. “I’m glad she chose you over me, else I’d be a fat, lazy, contend house cat for the remainder of my years.”

“Well, we find a way to work it off.” Simon’s playfully lecherous comment caught a deep belly laugh from Alteir.

“Not in front of the children.”

“Yes, Simon, please.” Rose reeled at the implication. Her disgusted look mirrored on Lyr’s face.

“Easy children, we all grow old in the body, so it’s good to stay young at the heart,” Simon added a firm slap to Alteir’s shoulders.

“Truer words were never spoken.” Alteir sighed.

“But for now, lessons are on the horizon. We must go.” Simon looked at the princess.

“Already?”

“I’m afraid so.” Simon pushed the point.

“Then I’ll have my lessons in my chambers. I wish to have a bath before breakfast.” Rose’s voice sounded more like a suggestion rather than an order.

“Certainly,” The black cat responded. “Let’s go.”

“Hold up, old man,” Alteir added. “I need to have a word with Lyr before you trapes them off.”

“Oh right, the whole bodyguard-to-the-princess, business. I suppose I’ll never get used to the idea.” Simon sighed.

“Well, it’s only been six months since I appointed him. Give yourself time.” Alteir nudged the smaller man.

“I’m getting old; I don’t know how much time I have left to give.”

“Years, old man, enough talk of that.” Alteir’s thick brows bent sharply.

“Right,” Simon nodded firmly. “I’ll go see to your bath and gather up my teaching supplies. I’ll meet you in your chambers, princess.”

“Thank you, Simon. I’ll be there soon.”

Alteir and Lyr both bid the professor a fond farewell before taking a small stroll around the courtyard for a moment of privacy. The older cat kept looking down at the calico with a smile. It was the same warm smile that his adopted father always carried for him. There was a pride in his amber eyes that warmed the smaller male’s heart.

“Look at you, all grown up now. Soon you’ll be taking on muscles and becoming as battle hardened and scared as your old man.” Alteir laughed.

“We can only hope. As of right now, I’m not large enough to scare a goat.” Lyr smirked.

“Fighting and war aren’t always about size-”

“It’s also about your mind and pure strength of will, I know.” Lyr welcomed the heavy weight of his father’s arm across his shoulder.

“You were always a clever boy. Look to that to give comfort in the coming day.” A fond laugh caught in his father’s throat.

“Something’s wrong?” Lyr couldn’t miss the tone.

“Nothing’s wrong, but I’m…being sent on another secret mission, far to the south this time.” Alteir’s lips drew tight.

“Another one? So Soon? You only got back last week.” Lyr pulled away from his grip to look up at him. “And they’re sending you to the south of all places.”

Alteir tensed up at the mention of the south, his eyes growing wide in remembrance. Years ago, when Alteir was a young man, he and a group of younger knights went to the south lands for tactical maneuvers. Alteir disappeared for nearly a year. He’d been gone so long without a trace that King Reiner actually signed his death certificate and they held a funeral for him.

Then one day, a battered and bruised Alteir stumbled out of the woods just outside the keep. He was immediately rushed to the castle, where King Reiner oversaw his medical treatment personally. Alteir physically recovered but never told anyone about what truly happened to him in the Southlands. Since that day, the master tactician avoided that part of the realm at all costs. Lyr wondered how the king convinced him to venture there now.

“I know, but the tides of the world are shifting. There are things happening to this kingdom that will soon change the realm, for the better I hope.” Alteir looked towards the sun that sat on the far rampart.

“You hope? It sounds bad.”

Alteir laughed. “No, I wouldn’t say that. King Reiner is merely taking into account the uneasy rumble off the southern seas. He looks to make an alley of Lord Vincent Du Mont.”

In earnest, the name escaped Lyr at the moment but he played it off with a knowing nod. “Should strengthen our borders considerably then?”

“Now you’re thinking like a tactician, boy.” Alteir paused in his stride and looked a Lyr. “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

Alteir drew his sword and Lyr immediately noticed that it had been altered from its former glory. The once tempered broadsword had been huge and cumbersome for the small cat to even lift. But now, the shimmering silver blade had been slimmed down to half its original width and shorted at least ten inches, for weight and maneuverability. The hilt and cross-guard had been changed as well, shorted and reformed for smaller hands.

“Your blade?”

“No, it’s your blade, my son.” Alteir smiled and passed the sword to the younger male hilt first. “I had it altered just for you. It’s balanced and weighted perfectly for you. It’s still stronger than any blade you’ll find and the more you grow, the easier it will be to manipulate.”

“This is…” Lyr felt the sting of hot tears coming to his eyes.

“Now, none of that,” Alteir touched his shoulders. “I’m old and libel to sob like a baby in need of a boob if you do.”

“Thank you, father.” Lyr lunged at the male’s broad body and hugged him with his free arm.

“No, thank you, my son. You’ve filled this old man’s life with happiness.” Alteir ran his fingers through the calico’s hair messy hair.

Lyr didn’t know what to say instead he hugged his father harder.

“Now, don’t keep Rose and Simon waiting. It would be rude.” The Maine Coon leaned away and looked down at his boy. “Look after the princess while I’m away.”

“I will, sir.”

“We’ll go fishing as soon as I get back.”

“Really?”

“I promise.” Alteir laughed. “Oh, and I left you a sheath propped against the doorway from the courtyard. It’s best to not run around with a brandished blade.”

“Thank you, sir.” Lyr bowed and hurried off to join the princess while Alteir headed the other way towards the barracks.

When Lyr reached the princess, he held his sword aloft excitedly but she didn’t see it at first. Instead, she stared at something on the other side of the courtyard and Lyr followed her gaze. There was large crow sitting on the lip of the well. Its dark cavernous eyes stared back at them. The bird was huge even by crow’s stature.

“That’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen,” Lyr spoke, his words strained from his studying gaze.

“Never seen one so big before,” Rose said before she looked down to see the weapon in his hand. “Whoa, you have a real sword now?”

“Alteir made adjustments to his old blade just for me.” Lyr shifted the weight of the blade in his hand, immediately forgetting about the strange onlooker.

“Can I hold it?”

“Yeah,” Lyr offered her the hilt.

She hefted the weight and laughed as it almost escaped her grip. “It’s still heavy even after the alteration.”

“I know; I can barely lift it.” Lyr started off towards the doorway into the main hall.

“Soon, though, we’ll have to start training and get your muscles built up, so you can protect me.” There was a teasing tone in Rose’s voice.

“Judging by how you whooped me today, you don’t need me for protection.” Lyr propped the heavy wooden door open for her.

“Aw, that’s sweet of you to say.”

Lyr picked up his sheath that leaned against the wall just inside the door and followed her inside. “It’s only the truth, my lady.”

The door closed behind them as they started off towards the dull lessons that awaited them.

Once the pair was out of sight, the crow called to the morning sun before bolting away into the blue. Alteir didn’t miss the cry. He turned and shielded his eyes against the sun at the black speck that disappeared over the rampart. Concerned filled his eyes. Crows were a dime a dozen in this region of Neballia, but one that size came from the swamps to the south and with them usually came ill omens.


	2. Plagued

A cool breeze trapped itself in the small room, ruffling papers and tossing the dainty sheers as it went. It wasn’t a luxurious bedroom for a princess and that’s how Rose liked it. The only luxury she insisted on keeping was her large four-post bed. The rest of it was common looking at best.

The rest of the furniture consisted of an old alchemy desk set against the wall and a dresser that was barely holding together. The armoire was fairly new. Rose converted it from a cupboard she’d gotten from the kitchen. The two end tables on either side of the bed were converted from two shipping crate. She’d build shelves inside of them to hold her books and jewelry boxes.

Lyr admired how handy Rose was. The queen had worked tirelessly to teach these hobbies to her daughter and now she carried them on with pride- and for good reason too.

“…as you well know, Nabailla split from the three main provinces to become its own region of the country. We adopted a monarchy way of government, much the same as our provincial parent, Gurvo. That was when your great great great grandfather stepped into the role of leader. It was the first and only election held in Nabaillian history, a red letter day if I may say so…” Simon droned on as he paced in front of the large map hanging from a painting canvas.

Lyr had given up listening to him talk about the history of the land a long time ago. Instead, he now pretended to sleep on Rose’s comfortable bed. In secret he kept one eye open, watching Rose relax in her bathing basin. There was something pleasing about the way the water glistened off of her ginger fur. The beautiful slope of her throat when she laid her head back against the lip of the basin was enticing. Every time she swallowed, Lyr felt a fluttering of wings in his tummy. Lyr had always known she was beautiful. He’d seen her enough in passing but now that they were so close and spent so much time together, he knew she was as beautiful inside as she was outside.

“Lyr…” He heard his name whispered but it was hard to discern from the professor’s drone.

“Only once did Gurvo try to ‘persuade’ us back into their good graces but your grandfather and a handful of his most trusted knights stood their ground. The battle was bloody and seemed doomed. It wasn’t until the coastal region Basi came to our aid and helped smooth the way to a prosperous future.” Simon smirked from beyond the beautiful ornate divider and adjusted his glasses. “Better to have four friendly nations than two warring ones. Since then, we’ve lived in relative peace with everyone.”

Lyr could see Rose leaning forward in her bathtub. She moved with such grace as to not make a sound. Lyr continued to feign sleep as she drew closer to him. He closed his eyes at the feeling of her hand rested on his shoulder, the other sinking into the duvet just above his head. A few drops of water brought his eyes open. They shot wide at the sight of the gentle slope of her meager breasts hanging in his face. Rose pressed her lips to his ear and whispered a warm rush deep into the crevices. It only worked to tense ever muscle in his body with a hot rush.

“My god, the way he drones on will be the death of me.” There was a lilting giggle in her tone.

Lyr shifted and looked up at her, unable to find even the faintest of laughs, forced or otherwise. Rose’s smile dwindled as she cocked her head.

“You’re bleeding?”

“What’s going on back there?” Before Lyr could react, he heard the stunted unamused tone of Simon as he rounded the divider.

Rose was frozen where she was before she could retreat back into the tub. “His nose just started bleeding.”

“Without a doubt,” Judging by the look on Simon’s face and the shrill spike of his voice, the scene must have been appalling to come in on. “How is a young man supposed to respond when you dangle your boobs in his face?”

“No, I-” Lyr squirmed back.

A coy look came to Rose’s face as she looked at the young man. “My breasts are not the cause of this. His nose bleeding was merely caused by the dangling of said breasts.” Rose’s recovery only worked to fuel the blush growing in Lyr’s cheeks.

“What, no!” Lyr looked at her, his mouth hanging open.

“Well, they certainly can’t be helping,” Simon gasped

“They can’t be hurting either.” Rose rebutted. “He’s seen my breasts a hundred times before. Tell him, Lyr.”

“I…” Lyr’s face was on fire and he could feel the blood coursing down to gather at his chin. He managed to catch it before it fell to the beautiful fabric of Rose’s bedding. “I just get nose bleeds sometimes, usually happens when I’m sleeping.”

Rose smiled with a gentle nod in respect to his quick recovery. “See, nothing to worry about.”

Simon smoothed the fur at the back of his neck. “Still, it’s very unbecoming for a princess to flaunt what she has, especially to a lowly knight. If anything were to happen, the scandal would ring from sea to shining sea. Your father would-”

“Simon, nothing happened. Let it go!” Rose’s eyebrows drew sharp over her emerald eyes. “I’ll be seventeen soon, I’ll be able to work on the council of my father. I will become a figurehead of poise and grace. All will know my name before I take the position of Queen. I know what’s at stake and I’m telling you, nothing happened.”

Simon bowed respectfully. “Very well, but I urge you to get dressed and join me for the remainder of your lessons.” He turned his attention to Lyr, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. “As for you, sleeping through my lessons will not be tolerated. This is free education that will better yours and the princess’s life. I suggest you take it seriously.”

“Yes, sir.” Lyr took the handkerchief and wiped his muzzle.

Simon folded up the divider and set it aside before going back to the map. “Where was I? Right, Nabaillian’s chief exports to our brethren nations of Du Mont to the South, Scarellia to the west, and Basi to the east, is our wheat, hops, and upstream salmon. Though, our main trade routes lead from our parent province, Gurvo to the northwest of us. It’s through these trade routes we’ve managed a consistent trade that has helped all of our nations to prosper. In turn, they give us fabrics, meats, herbs…”

Lyr watched Rose safely from behind the comfort of the handkerchief. The way she moved was grace incarnate. It was the same grace that carried her on the battlefield. She pulled her silken robe up onto her narrow shoulders that peaked her pear shaped body. Lyr’s eyes followed the slope of her hips and backside, watching as they rippled with her strong muscles. Muscles she’d build up through hours of riding lessons. She was meant to ride sidesaddle, but once she was out of sight of the teacher, that changed. The two of them spent hours tearing through the countryside together, until a patrolling group of guards would catch them and escort them back to the castle. Rose tied her robe loosely at her waist and smirked at him. Lyr realized; he was no longer being candid about his staring at.

She settled in next to him. “Enjoying the show?” She teased.

“I…”

“Ahem,” Simon pursed his lips.

“Sorry.” Rose offered, sincerely.

“Let’s switch gears for a little while. I know my tone and constant droning can be boring, so let’s move to a bittersweet chapter of your history, shall we?” Simon knelt down and gathered up his cylindrical map holder, fishing around inside for something.

Lyr looked at Rose and smiled. “Sorry for stealing a peek.”

“No worries, if I was uncomfortable around you; you’d know.” She giggled.

“Here it is,” Simon stood up and pasted a smaller map over top the other on the canvas. “King Reiner has been quite the pinnacle leader over time. He’s only made one decision that was seen as unfavorable to ours and the other nations. After he explained his reasoning to the court and council, all was forgiven but for half a year there was a dark shadow over our kingdom.”

Rose’s smile left her lips. It was replaced by a sterner visage of a would-be-queen. “I’ve never heard this story before.”

“Yes, the burning of the Clemont fields is rarely remembered and never spoke of now. It was…turmoil, a disaster by history book standards.” Simon leaned back against the princess’s desk.

“What happened?” Rose noticed Lyr’s silence. She could feel the tension radiating off of him.

“Why don’t we let Lyr explain? It is, after all, how he came to live with us.” Simon’s voice was compassionate, though his methods could be seen as cruel.

“I don’t…want to talk about it.” Lyr crumpled the soft fabric of the handkerchief, resting his hands in his lap.

“Please.” Simon coaxed.

Rose touched his bicep. “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it. In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you bothered by anything. Whatever happened must have been dreadful?”

“It was.” Lyr took comfort in the soft caress of her hand up the inside of his bicep. “Clemont field was my home before Alteir took me in. My father and mother worked the farms there. We grew vegetables, mostly root based.”

“What happened?”

“One day, when I was twelve, my mother took ill. She coughed up blood, weak and weary. She was so sick she couldn’t get out of bed. Then my brother Leon took ill and my younger brother Lonnie after him. They all bore the same symptoms. Before we knew it, the entire field, all the farmers, and their families, even the animals were growing ill. Something had poisoned the earth and everyone was getting sick and dying.” Lyr explained. He dug one of his claws into the palm of his hand. It helped him keep control of his emotions.

“Was it a plague?” Rose noticed. She slipped her fingers into his to keep him from hurting himself.

“Of sorts,” Simon chimed in. “A rare swamp beast from Du Mont wandered through. It ended up falling into one of the wells, poisoning the water supply.”

Lyr nodded and looked down at the ginger hand in his. “My mother died first, she choked to death in her bed. It didn’t take long before my brothers followed.”

“Didn’t you have doctors, apothecaries, anything?”

“They died early on,” Simon added. “It was months before Alteir discovered the cause, by then the damage had already been done.”

“My dad got sick last. It was more from exhaustion and starvation than the plague. He worked to harvest all of the vegetables before they could be tainted.” Lyr looked away from the princess, hiding his tears. “But it was too late; everything was corrupted by the illness.”

“The king ordered the burning of the fields, the houses, the barns, everything was to be destroyed. They filled in the wells and fenced them off. The remaining survivors slowly dwindled and died. Lyr was the only survivor.” Simon thumbed his chin, trying to keep his own emotions in check.

“How could my father let this happen?” Rose whispered. “How did you keep from becoming infected?”

“We’re still unsure.” A deep voice called from the door. “Master Alteir believes that the supplements young Lyr takes may play into it but that’s only theory.”

Everyone looked to the one that spoke. A tall slender man stood in the doorway. His orange tabby fur lay over his face like a mask. The remainder of his face was coated in snow white fur the same as Rose’s fur pattern. A pair of green eyes, as vibrant and beautiful as Rose’s echoed out from the orange. His graying auburn hair was trimmed and slicked back under the heavy weight of the golden crown on his brow. The green and silver fabric of his robes seemed to flow even when he wasn’t moving. The king was as regal and powerful as his daughter was grace and poise redefined.

“Father?” Rose slowly slipped her hand away from the calico’s.

“It’s true, my child. Not my happiest decision but I had to think of the kingdom first.” He folded his large hands before him as if to offer himself to any verbal blows that might follow.

“No one can begrudge you that, my lord,” Lyr spoke earnestly, his emotions well under control now.

“No, but it’s still a burden that weighs heavy on my soul.” King Reiner bowed his head.

“I miss my family a lot, but I’ve been blessed with a new one. Alteir has been nothing but good to me. Now, I have Simon and Rose, I couldn’t ask for a better family.” Lyr said.

“Then I can at least take solace in that fact, young Lyr.” A smile found its way to the king’s lips.

Rose gave Lyr a telling look, one that questioned the history further. The calico simply nodded in agreement to speak on the matter at a later time. The princess smiled and touched his forearm in the same comforting way.

“Why have you graced us with your presence…my- uhm…grace?” Simon stumbled on his own formality.

“There is an urgent matter I must speak to my daughter about. Could you send her to me once your lesson is complete?” King Reiner asked, his tone was polite but stressed.

Lyr felt Rose tense next to him. He could hear it in the way her breath caught in her throat at the mention of an urgent matter.

“Actually, you may have her now. This would be a perfect time to halt my lessons.” Simon was already taking down his maps to roll up and put away.

“If you’re sure, my friend,” King Reiner nodded graciously. “Rose, if you’d be so kind as to get dressed and join me in the garden.”

“Certainly father,” Rose didn’t seem all too happy about this strange meeting.

If her father thought that the subject was urgent enough to interrupt her lessons, then it must be something important. There was nothing she could do to postpone this meeting either, which also added to her tension.

Lyr rested his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll go with you.”

“Thanks, Lyr.”

He could tell by her easy smile and the look in her eyes that she really did appreciate it.

“Good, see you soon. Thank you, Simon.” The King bowed his head and stepped out of the room, leaving her to get ready.


	3. Simple Task

Rose slowed her pace as she reached the iron fence leading into the center of the garden. Lyr could sense something was bothering her, though knew better to pry. They’d been together long enough for him to know if she wanted to talk about it; she would.

“Hold up,” Lyr whispered, gripping her hip as gently as he could.

Rose did as he asked without a word. She could feel him pull the ribbon at her waist tighter around her light spring dress. She felt the soft yellow fabric drawn taut around her at his gentle pull before cinching at her waist. His touch was so gentle; it soothed her nervousness enough to loosen her tongue.

“Thank you, Lyr.” She whispered.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“No, I mean for coming with me, for helping me get dressed, for…well, everything you do. Since my mother passed away, I’ve always wanted a companion that I could rely on, I could be real with. You honor me,” Rose stopped talking once she felt his warm finger-pads on her cheek.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” There was the lull of a giggle in his tone. “You’re my friend. There isn’t anything in this world I wouldn’t do for you.”

Rose didn’t speak. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Lyr could feel her trembling. Whatever favor the king was going to ask her for, frightened her. Surely it couldn’t be that detrimental of a request.

“Did you want to talk about it?” Lyr knew better but offered anyway, and as expected, Rose simply shook her head.

“I should go in there,”

“With your head held high.” Lyr finished her thought.

Rose nodded and gave him a peck on his cheek before she slipped through the heavy gates with him in tow. They walked along the path under a canopy of ivy vines. Lyr focused on the lingering warmth the kiss left on his cheek. It was such an all-consuming feeling; he’d almost missed the king turning to greet them.

“My daughter,” He said fondly before looking at Lyr. “And with her is always her shadow.” His voice had taken on a less than fond tone.

“Father, be kind.”

“Certainly,” The king smiled. “Lyr, my boy, I have a simple task for you. Will you run to the square and get us a small sack of those...now, what are they called again? You know, the crunchy things but they’re not nuts.”

“Spicy Chickpeas, your highness.” Lyr kept his tone respectful, sounding impossibly young next to the king’s voice.

“That’s them,” The king fished out a few coins from his pouch and passed them on. “That’s a good lad.”

Lyr took the coins and bowed respectfully before rushing out. He’d wanted to say goodbye to Rose but knew the king didn’t appreciate nor wanted his presence, so it was best he leave immediately. The fact that he was sent on such a menial task, instead of staying there to support Rose, irked him some. In the end, he knew he had to do what he was told. Who was he to question the king? No one.

Once Lyr was gone and the gate was closed, the king turned to address his daughter. “You’re as beautiful as your mother.” His voice was warm and inviting.

He swept in and took both of Rose’s hands, holding them out so he could get a better look at her in her simple flower dress. A smile ran from ear to ear as he studied her as if she were a prize winning mare or a painting hanging in the gallery.

“Where has the time gone? Just yesterday you were tumbling through the dirt, biting and scratching to show your mettle and now...” King Reiner chuckled favorably.

It was a sweet gesture from a doting father but none of it was true, however. Rose had always been a quiet child. Focusing on her studies and hobbies had always occupied her. King Reiner had, for the most part, been absent from her life since her mother died. Even before then, their only interactions had been to appeal to the state. Still, she loved him and believed that he loved her in turn.

King Reiner settled on a metal bench, patting the seat next to him. Rose used her dainty poise to sit next to him, crossing her legs like a dignified lady. Her father approved, just as she thought he would.

“So, that Lyr fellow a handsome devil, isn’t he? I trust he’s behaving himself?” The misguided concern was thick in his voice.

“He is a gentleman.” Rose rebutted, already more uncomfortable with this situation then she needed to be.

“Good. Atleir promised me that Lyr was to be trusted.”

‘Then why question him,’ is what Rose wanted to ask. Instead, she nodded and remained quiet. Deep in the back of her mind, she knew he was just playing the role of a father concerning for his daughter’s well-being. Still, his condescending attitude towards Lyr frustrated her.

“How have the lessons been going?”

“Father, not to be rude, but you came to me during my lessons to inform me of something that concerned you and you needed to speak to me immediately.” Rose kept her voice calm and controlled. “You have to understand, small talk is the furthest thing from my mind right now. Why don’t you tell me what has you bothered, so we can deal with it and move on to more pleasant topics?”

“Heh,” He smirked. “Straight to business, just like your mother.”

King Reiner smoothed his whiskers with one trembling hand before taking a sharp breath. “I’ve…taken steps to secure the kingdom’s future with the nation of Du Mont.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.” The king agreed.

Rose watched as he chewed nervously at one of his claws, her heart starting to slam in her chest. “Father, what did you do?”

“You have to understand, I only did it for the good of our people.”

“What did you-” Rose got to her feet.

“I-I did only what I thought you would want me to do.” King Reiner was off the bench with his back to her.

“Dad! What did you do?” Rose voice spiked bringing him to look at her.

“You’re hence betrothed to Lord Vincent Du Mont. He’ll be here in the coming days to fetch you.” King Reiner’s voice was as cold as his stare. “It was a sacrifice I had to make for the good of the kingdom.”

“What about the good of your own daughter, your own flesh, and blood?” She stared back, her whole body trembling so hard; she thought she may combust at any moment.

“It was a difficult decision to make but I’ve made my peace with it, it’s time for you to do the same.” His eyebrows drew sharp over his emerald eyes.

His words cut so deeply that she found it difficult to breathe. Now more than ever, she wished her bodyguard was there to protect her from the pain her own father was subjecting her too.

***

Meanwhile, Lyr was following through with his mission, like a good knight should. The merchant was right where the king suggested he would be. The merchant offered a bounty of roasted nuts of all types from all over the world. Lyr filled the burlap sack near to busting before passing off two shiny coins to the dark-furred cat. It was twice as much as the bounty was worth but the sweet little black and white girl cat tugging on the merchant’s apron strings was enough to loosen Lyr’s purse strings a little more. Besides, the money belonged to the king and if he wanted to reclaim it, he could.

“Dear Sir, wish for a flower?”

Another little girl cat came up to him; this one had sandy gray fur and a white patch around her muzzle. He knelt down to greet her as she offered up a basket for his perusal. She possessed a bounty of the largest and most beautiful flowers, Lyr had ever seen. Before even asking the price, Lyr pulled the last coin from his purse and held it out to the little girl.

“Are you sure,” Her amber eyes were the size of saucers. “A whole gold coin, just for me?”

“Certainly, how many flowers do I get?”

“All of them.” The little girl giggled.

“No, really? I shouldn’t take them all. How about five? You pick them.” Lyr chuckled and got to his feet.

Lyr tucked his thumbs into his belt as he watched the little girl meticulously count out five of the prettiest flowers in the basket. She wrapped them with a little pink ribbon before holding them out to the knight.

“These are lovely, dear. Thank you.” The calico smiled but when he reached for then, he heard a voice spike from across the square.

“We donna take kindly te Basiian comin’ in here and stealin’ our bidness.” The voice was gruff and angry.

A deep nasally tone called back, with a very slight hint of an accent. “I’ve paid my permits and I abide by Nabailian law set forth by your government. You have no reason to complain.”

“You cut your prices to undersell all of us. You’re a scam artist and a thief.” Another voice joined in.

Lyr saw a short stocky cat stranded atop his brightly colored wagon. He’d seen it in the square numerous times before. There were paper lanterns and festive native writing over every inch of it. It had always been one of the most inviting carts, pleasant to the eyes. Every time Lyr thought to visit the cart, it was always hustling and bustling with passersby. Obviously, that was why it was plagued by the other merchants now, angry and fit to be tied.

Lyr’s pulse went cold as he saw one of the cats, Mr. March, pick up a rock and lob it at the wagon. It barely missing the stout cat by inches. Lyr looked down at the little girl still holding the flowers, though now she’d moved several steps back towards her mother.

“Hold on to those for me, please.” Lyr requested politely.

He didn’t wait for a response. He darted towards the commotion, trying to ignore the pounding of his own frightened heart. As a knight, he should be able to defuse the situation easily but sometimes mobs wouldn’t listen to reason. If that happened, Lyr wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

“That’s enough now!” Lyr shouted; his voice cracking as it spiked.

The mob, if three angry cats could be considered a mob, halted for a moment and stared at the young knight as he made his way closer. He could see in their eyes that they weren’t the least bit interested in the young knight. It caused a cold feeling to settle into Lyr’s gut.

“What now? Why are you behaving so irrationally with one of our brothers from the coast?” Lyr questioned the three cats, who were now starting to take this more seriously.

“He’s a cheat and a liar.” One spoke.

“Come in ‘er takin’ up all our bidness.” Another one added.

“And that’s cause for violence in an otherwise peaceful setting? People come here for a leisurely shopping experience. They bring their children here for fun and escape from the day-to-day struggles.” Lyr was trying to appeal to their sense of community.

“Stuff it, ‘es still takin’ our bidness.”

“I doubt that.” Lyr felt a spark ignite deep inside of him. “You’re hurting your own business by acting like thugs. You want to scare people into shopping at your establishments?”

“Well, no, not really.” Finally, the gray tabby was starting to sway to the young knight’s argument.

Lyr could see the others were starting to listen to reason but it was no time to stop now. “If this merchant’s papers are up to specs, then there’s no reason to question his validity. You wouldn’t want him questioning your right to sell if you went to his country.”

There were nods between the other three merchants as they were more willing to listen now. Lyr’s knees trembled from the adrenaline surge as it slowly started to drain away, making him tired and relaxed.

“We should embrace this kind of commercial competition. It’ll help make you a better merchant, so you can make more money for your family.” Lyr rested his hand on the closest merchant’s shoulders. “Now, let us be done with all of this and return to our shops in peace.”

“He’s right.” The thinner brown cat said. “Sorry.”

“A’ight, I apologize to ye, I spoke outta turn. Welcome to Nabalia.” Mr. March, the gray tabby slinked away back towards his pub.

“You can come down now,” Lyr said to the stout cat that was already dropping down to the street.

The cat had cream colored fur with a distinct dark mask-like marking over his eyes. It didn’t help smooth the grumpy look on his face. His dark blue eyes looked up at Lyr in a judging stare. At first, the calico was sure he was about to be yelled at but the little cat simply smiled and went back to work.

“You’re welcome, sir,” Lyr smirked, thinking the little cat was just in shock from everything that happened.

“So what? You helped those louts see what they already knew. I have my papers in order and law on my side. If they so much as tried anything, I’d own their asses.” The nasally voice was as sharp as a whip.

So sharp, it forced Lyr to take a step back. “Excuse me?”

“Hard of hearing, are you? I might have something you can take for that.” The cat ducked behind his counter and pulled out a strange blue sack. “Molto root, it’s good for the ears. My name is Bok, by the way. Bok’s Germ eradicating Herbs. We heal your woes for a little gold. What can I get for you?”

The assault of words further discombobulated the calico, leaving him unable to think straight. “Nothing.”

“Then why are you bothering me, kid? Get gone, you’re holding up my business.” Bok furrowed his eyebrows before waving his hands to shoo Lyr away.

The calico turned and started away, still trying to gather his thoughts. “What the hell is that guy’s problem?”

Lyr was frustrated. Angry at the brutal treatment he received for just trying to help. He was lost in his thoughts until the sound of a little voice pulled him back.

“Sir Knight?”

The little girl stepped up with her mother not far behind. They both smiled at Lyr while the little girl held out the bouquet of flowers. It had grown by five more flowers than before, each of them more unique and beautiful than the five she picked earlier.

“Mama said you deserve a bigger bouquet for helping the grumpy man.” The little girl tugged on her orange sundress shyly.

“That’s really sweet of her; your mom’s a wonderful woman.” Lyr shot the lady a smile and bowed his head graciously.

“Thank you, sir.” The mom, who looked exactly like her daughter, smiled in spite of the crimson tint on her cheeks.

After a brief goodbye, Lyr started back towards the castle more than successful in his mission. With a bounty of edibles for his highness and a bouquet of beautiful flowers for Rose in hand, it wasn’t a bad a day’s work even if it did take him a bit longer. No doubt, the king was already impatient for his Chickpeas. He crossed the drawbridge, accompanied by the solid clacking of his boots on the wood. With any luck, they’d be done with their little meeting, so Lyr and Rose could get back to enjoying the rest of their day. 

***

There was no such luck; Lyr realized when he saw Rose tear through the iron gate that led to the garden. Tears streamed down her face as she pushed passed him without saying a word. King Reiner was right behind her but couldn’t match her speed. He slowed when he saw the calico, a guilty look heavy in his eyes.

“Did you manage to get the Chickpeas?” He spoke nervously, punctuating his question with a swallow.

“Yes, your highness.” Lyr passed the large sack to the man.

“That’s a good boy.” The condescending term never sounded so flat before.

“I’m going to go after the princess.” Lyr made his intent clear but didn’t wait for the king to say anything before he headed off.

When Lyr rounded the doorway to the riding area, he could see Rose running for the barn across the way; he followed. Another crow, as large as the last one, fluttered away in her wake and headed off over the rampart. It was eerie omen but the calico managed to push it to the back of his mind before tearing off after the princess. He did his best to not ruin the bouquet he carried for her in the process.


	4. Intertwined

The barn was dark, even the warm sunlight spilling in from the gap in the door wasn’t enough to chase it away. The smell of hay and horses permeated everything. It was thick, earthy with a subtle hint of disgusting. Lyr wasn’t about to let the smell stop him from going in.

He could hear Rose weeping from somewhere in the dark. It echoed off the large expanse making it hard to pinpoint her direction. Even the faint trail of her rose oil was nearly impossible to follow within the stench. Her weeping twisted in his heart. He hated to think of her sad enough to cry. He knew that she would only talk if she wanted to, if there ever was a time for talking, it was now.

“Rose?” Lyr whispered.

“I’m up in the loft.” Rose voice was choked with tears.

Suddenly, a burst of sunlight from above filled the dark expanse. Lyr squinted back against the sharp light and saw Rose standing high up on the loft landing. She gave another hard push to the wooden shutter covering the large barn window. It clacked against the wooden wall inside. A breath of fresh air wafted down, pushing the foul smell away for a moment. It carried with it a hint of her rosy scent. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever smelled. It drove him to climb the sturdy wooden ladder, two rungs at a time if he could manage it. He tucked the bouquet of flowers in his mouth to ensure their safety until he could deliver them to Rose.

When he reached the loft, he quickly pulled the bundle behind his back to make it a surprise. Rose sat on a rounded bundle of hay with her back pressed against another hay bale stacked behind her. Her white and ginger cheeks were streaked with black mascara from crying.

She managed to hold back the tears now that Lyr was there but her handkerchief could only do so much against the black stains left behind by her tears. Rose very rarely cried. Only one other time in the six months Lyr had known her.

“I got you something,” Lyr stepped forward.

“Don’t you want to ask why I’m crying?” Rose ignored his question.

“In time,” Lyr slowly knelt down before her. “We have all day to discuss what’s wrong.”

Rose bit her bottom lip and lunged at him. The sudden added weight of her body pushed him down to the wood. He barely had time to move the flowers before he sprawled out under her. Rose started crying again, her body trembling from the force of her tears. Lyr wrapped his arms up across her back, resting his chin in the soft waves of her hair.

They didn’t speak, not for a good long time. Lyr simply held her through the waxing and waning waves of tears that followed. When her emotions subsided, Rose sat back straddling the young man’s waist. She used her tear-drenched handkerchief to scrub away the mascara on her cheeks. Still, Lyr kept quiet, watching her. He was waiting for a sign that she was ready to talk.

“These are beautiful,” Rose whispered, picking up the bundle of flowers to smell them.

Her ginger fur blended well with the bright purples, blues, and reds of the flowers as she pushed her face into them. Lyr could hear her inhale deeply; it was tipped with a giggling sniffle before the inevitable sneeze. The sudden jolt of her weight change from the sneeze hurt, but Lyr was willing to endure.

“I thought so too.” Lyr tried to hide the groan in his voice. “I bought them from a little girl in the square. The moment I saw them, I had to get them for you.

Rose rested her face among the flowers, looking past them to see Lyr. “I’ll press them immediately when I get back to the castle.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Lyr laughed, getting up on his elbows.

“But I want to. They’re such a nice gift from such a sweet boy.”

She fluttered one across Lyr’s nose. He could smell the earthen scent under the sweet natural oils from the flower. It caused a tingle deep in his sinuses but he worked to keep the sneeze at bay.

“I’m sure there will be other such gifts from boys and suitors alike. I’m just glad to be the first.” Lyr smiled coyly but the warm feeling was fleeting.

A serious look came to Rose’s face. It was the type of look that was always preceded bad news. It caused a cold lump to form in Lyr’s stomach.

“What did your father say to you?” Lyr’s voice lingered on a whispering tone.

“He traded me to Lord Du Mont to ensure a better future for Naballia. I’m to be his blushing bride; his lady of the swamp.” Rose let out a cruel chuckle that caught on the new wave of tears forming. “He’ll be coming for me in a day or so, to spirit me away.”

“Then I will go too.”

“You weren’t invited and I don’t think he’ll have need of me having a bodyguard anymore.” Rose rested her hands against Lyr’s hard metal chest plate.

“Then I’ll go as your friend.” Lyr smiled. “Hell, I will join their guard at the level of squire and rework my way back up through the ranks if I have to. I’ll do anything to be close to you.”

“Now you’re just being silly.” Rose found the strength to swallow down her tears again.

 "It’s no joke. You’re my friend; there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.” Lyr reached up and rested his hand on her.

“Don’t. Don’t waste your life like that.”

“It’s not a waste if it’s something I’d have to do to be happy.” Lyr could feel her fingers squeeze his hand.

“Friend? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you like me.”

“Well, maybe a little bit.”

Rose held up her index finger and thumb with a small gap between them. “This much.”

“So generous,” Lyr smirked and pushed them closer together. “There we go.”

They both laughed and Lyr could see that Rose was starting to feel better. When he slowly sat up, Rose let gravity carry her to the floor between his legs. Her legs rested lazily over his thighs. She stayed close to him, nothing but a bouquet of flowers between them.

“You know, everything changed after my mother died.” Rose began, her voice sounded frail and it broke Lyr’s heart to hear it as such. “My father and I were never close before, but I needed him so badly after she was gone. He wasn’t there for me. For a little girl of eight, it felt as if both my parents had died, except for with my father, I got to see his walking corpse every day. It was a reminder that I would never be as important as his precious kingdom.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I. That pain went away after time, I’d forgiven him and let him back in-”

“And he turns around and does it again.”

“Yes,” Her voice trembled.

“I wish I could say I understood.” Lyr felt guilty for the confession.

“Tell me about your parents,” A curious tone entered her voice. Her green eyes showing her genuine interest in the boy’s past.

“My mother worked hard all the time. Besides the farm work in the morning, she’d work at the tavern two nights a week, and washed the linens at the castle once a week. But every Sunday, we’d sit and eat as a family.”

“That sounds lovely.” Rose contemplated if she’d ever had a family meal in her life. “And your father?”

“He was the full-time caretaker for the farms and my brothers. I never wanted for anything, not physical, nor emotional. He was the man I compared all others too.” Lyr smiled warmly. “Where men would chastise his ability to cook and care for the children, he’d simply cleaved a log in half with one swing and say. ‘Embracing your family makes you stronger. Ignorance to that truth guarantees weakness.’ Then he would go back to work.”

“He sounds amazing, both your parents do.” Rose rested her cheek against the cool metal of his chest plate. “You must miss them greatly.”

“I do.” Lyr nodded. “But I’ve been blessed to have Alteir as my guardian. He’s the only one that could have been a better father to me than my own.”

“There’s a lot to be grateful to Alteir for.” Rose agreed.

“Yeah, he did introduce me to you.”

“Lyr,” Her lilting tone caught on a giggle. “You keep that flattery to yourself.”

“As you wish.” Lyr dipped his head in respect.

“Now, back to your family. You had brothers too, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Leon and Lonnie.” Lyr rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Lonnie was two years younger than me. Born with a limp and was quite sickly but fierce as the sun. Leon was four years older than me. He pulled much of the work around the farm while dad cared for us.”

“They sound amazing. I always wanted a brother.” There was a dreamy quality to her sigh.

“I’ll be your brother, then.” Lyr’s chuckle brought her eyes up to meet his.

“That won’t do at all.” She whispered.

Lyr wanted to be insulted by that comment but the look in her eyes quickly explained what she meant. It caused a low rolling blush in his cheeks. The notion made it almost easy to forget that soon she’d be whisked away to some strange land to live with a man she didn’t know and didn’t love.

Rose could tell what he was thinking and soothed it away by booping his nose. “That’s enough of those dark thoughts, bodyguard. You’re supposed to be protecting me.”

“What? You want me to protect you from sadness?”

“Oh, Lyr. I have faith in your abilities.” Rose teased.

“Right,” Lyr chuckled. “Let’s see what I can come up with.”

Rose leaned back with an excited look on her face. Lyr thought for a long time. He was never one for a joke, nor did he have any funny songs or stories like the bards tell. He wasn’t a juggler or a dancer either. He was running out of choices quickly.

“I can’t come up with anything.” Lyr blushed.

“Oh, well maybe I can come to your rescue for a change.” Rose smiled and drummed her fingers on his chest plate.

Lyr watched her. There was a nervous tingle coursing through his body. The way she was poised, made him feel as though he were prey and she was out for the hunt.

“I’ve always wanted to see Basi.” Rose mused with a warm smile.

The statement took Lyr by surprise. He even cocked his head as if he’d not heard her right. Out of all the things she could have said, that was the last thing he could have thought of.

“You know, Basi.” Rose prodded playfully. “There’s just something about the beach and the warm weather that’s so enticing.”

“I agree.” Lyr blinked a few time, shying away from her gaze. “I hear it's beautiful there.”

“We should go there,” Rose smirked.

“We should, someday,” Lyr chuckled. “Do you think Du Mont would let you go?”

Their laughter hitched when Rose’s fell away. There was a serious look in her eyes. One that Lyr had never seen before. Whatever she was thinking brought a chill to his bones.

“We should go there tonight when everyone’s asleep.” Rose’s eyes lit up with a newly forged excitement. “We could just steal some horses and ride out in the cover of night. I’ll bring some money and my jewels to sell.”

“What about the king?”

“What about him?” Rose seemed almost manic from the thought. “He’s never taken my feelings into account.”

 “I know, but we can’t just leave.” Lyr was trying to be the voice of reason but he knew deep inside that she was right.

They could just leave and even if they managed to catch them, they could come up with a million reasons why they did it. No one would prosecute her and she wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Lyr would help her make a dream come true and postpone the wedding at least for a few days.

 “You know what I’m saying is true, Lyr.” Rose touched her nose to his chin. “Be my knight; protect me from all of this.”

“I did take an oath to protect you.” Lyr looked up as if he were thinking.

“You did,” Rose fumbled to get to her feet, rubbing her numbed backside. “We don’t want to disappoint Alteir, do we?”

“I have to admit, I don’t think he would much care for this plan.” Lyr got to his feet.

“I don’t think he’d hold it against you either.”

“True.”

“What do you say?” Rose chewed her bottom lip, trying to give him the coyest look she could muster.

“Let’s do it.”

Even before the phrase left his mouth, Rose belted out a victory ‘yeah’ and jumped in the air. Lyr rested a hand on her hip to help stabilize her as she came down. With the same precise motion, she jumped and wrapped her arms around his neck, threatening to topple him again. He held fast and hugged her close.

“I’ll come to your chambers tonight and we’ll use the hidden passages behind the walls to get out.” Lyr explained.

“From there, I can lead us to the barn.” Rose nodded. “No one will suspect a thing. This is really going to work.”

“Yes.” Lyr agreed. “Once we go back to the castle, we’ll pack some provisions for our escape.”

“We must remember to get food and water, too.” Rose leaned back to look at him, he could tell she was having a hard time containing her excitement. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Well, you better believe it.” Lyr touched her cheek. “I’m going to need you to help pull it off.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Rose giggled before pulling away and pressing a salute to her brow.

Lyr snickered and returned the salute. Rose hurried off to climb down the ladder. It was clear that she was excited to start packing for the trip. Lyr waited until she was down before starting to descend after her. Just outside the window in the garden beyond, something caught his eye.

Alteir was meeting with a strange man dressed from head to toe in a black robe and hood. A group of like dressed men were gathered around them. This either had something to do with the secret mission the king was sending him on or that Count Du Mont was arriving earlier than expected. Then something else caught Lyr’s eye. A black crow fluttered up and landed on one of the other figure’s shoulder as if it belonged to him. Was it the same crow as before? Lyr’s silent question went unanswered. It sent a cold chill slowly seeped into the young calico’s soul.

“Lyr, are you coming down?” Rose called up to him.

“Yeah, I was just-” Lyr stopped talking when he saw the man slap Alteir’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. “Looking at something. I’ll be right down.”

Lyr watched for a moment longer before climbing down the ladder. Luckily, Rose was so absorbed in the newly founded plan; she didn’t question what he’d been looking at. Lyr wouldn’t know what to say to her if she’d asked. He’ll just have to focus on the plan and let things unfold as they would. With any luck, they’d be long gone by morning and none of this would matter.


	5. If These Walls Could Talk

Beyond the ramparts, in the far distance came a rolling thunder. It brought with it a cold breeze. Rain hung heavy in the air, Lyr could smell it. Good, he thought, they needed the rain this time of year, good for the crops. Lyr filled his head with menial thoughts, thoughts of a farmer. In light of everything, it kept him sane.

What had he agreed too? This is madness. These were the thoughts he tried to push away now. The prospect that he was willing to ‘kidnap’ the princess just because she asked him too was far beyond the stupidest thing he’d ever done. At least, he wished he could feel that way. When he remembered the look on her beautiful face after he agreed, it all went away. That’s the real reason he agreed to it.

Lyr paced around his bedroom in his soft soled boots, trying to get everything in order. His room was a standard at best, one that a maid or a kitchen worker would sleep in. There was a small cot, armoire, complete with desk and chair. A small wood burning stove sat in the corner; he only used in the winter time. It was nice to have but it usually ended up making the room too hot.

He opened his satchel and gave it another look through just to be sure he got everything. He’d grabbed a change of clothes, some undergarment, his whetstone set, a few of his favorite books. There was also a framed etching that someone had done of Alteir. It was one of the calico’s prized possessions.

“I should pack my medical supplies.” Lyr whispered, his voice sounding so foreign in the silence.

 Lyr knelt down next to his cot and pulled a small cotton sack from underneath. It wasn’t much of a medical kit. Inside, a few folds of crushed herbs, a small container of water, bandages, and a jar of antiseptic gel, it was only good for scrapes and bruises really. Still, it might help in a pinch, if they needed it.

As the calico got to his feet, he heard his protective chest plate bump the bedpost. Hollow and loud, it echoed in the room. He froze sharply, his keen ears working to hear if anyone in the hall outside may have heard him. Of course not, he bit his bottom lip. Guards didn’t patrol the sleeping quarters at night. Lyr exhaled, he needed to be as quiet as possible. In fact, with the exception of the dim light from the candle on his desk; he didn’t want anyone to know he existed at all. He’d like to keep it that way too.

Then he heard it, a whisper, a murmur sounding from somewhere in the distance. That’s what he thought he heard anyway. The whispering came from behind his very walls. A strange voice, he’d never heard before. It sounded deep and gritty as if the man needed to clear his throat. It made his heart start thumping in his chest.

“You fool, I told you to be quiet.”

A hiss lingered in his voice; it spurred Lyr into shoving the medical bag away before cinching his satchel shut. He reminded himself to be as silent as the grave.

“Yes, sir.” Another voice responded.

“I can’t believe the old fool got away.” A woman’s voice could be heard. A malevolent hiss carried with the soft and soulful tone.

“That will be rectified, mother.” The gritty voice echoed.

“It had better be, or I will flay you alive.” Venom dripped from her words.

“The old man said the princess’s room is just up ahead and around the corner by thirty paces.”

“Good, the old man may have warned the guards by now, so we must hurry.”

 “And what of the boy?” The chilly woman asked.

Lyr froze when he heard mention of ‘the boy’. A cold chill prickled down his back. Intuition told him who they spoke of, they meant him. His legs tensed, ready to propel him away at any moment.

“I’ll deal with him myself.” The gritty voice spoke coldly. “You tend to the princess; make sure she doesn’t take another breath. Mother, meet me in the throne room.”

“Yes,” The woman’s hiss echoed through the walls like a trickle of water.

Lyr ran out of time, sooner than expected. He quickly snatched up his sword and satchel before hurrying out of the room. If the man with the gritty voice meant to do him harm, he wouldn’t make it easy for him.

In the hall, he could hear shouting from somewhere down the way. The sounds of metal on metal join in. A battle, a war waged now inside the castle and it begged the question, who were these intruders? Then Lyr remembered the strange men he’d seen Alteir with. Were these the men from his secret mission? A guilty pang filled the calico’s stomach. He should have mentioned it to Rose, they could have warned someone.

Lyr’s hurried on to Rose’s room, trying to keep his body as small and unnoticed as possible. He made sure to snuff out every candle he came across. The intruders couldn’t know the full layout of the castle keep. The darkness didn’t give Lyr an advantage but it could keep him from being discovered long enough to get to the princess.

At the corner, he halted and peered around. He could see a glowing firelight at the far end of the hall. The shadows of the guards and intruders cast against the wall. They battled and dueled ferociously. Lyr silently prayed for the guards to be hale and hardy for the fight. If the intruders overwhelmed those guards; it would put them right outside Rose’s door. He had to hurry.

He stayed low in a crouching run, trying not to make a sound. Once he reached the door, he opened it and a low orange glow of candlelight filtered out. He ducked inside and closed the door behind him, safe for the moment.

Rose sat on her bed, resting against the headboard with a book in her lap. “Oh, there you are. I’d nearly fallen asleep waiting for you.”

Lyr moved across the room and blew out the candle while fastening his sword around his waist. Rose’s eyes went wide with confusion.

“What’s going on?”

“Shh,” He uttered, holding up one hand. “You have to be quiet.” The terror in his eyes made Rose uneasy.

“Lyr?”

“Get your bag, we have to go now.” Lyr pressed his ear to the wall, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. Thankfully, there were none.

“Look out!”

Rose voice sent fear rippling through the calico’s young body. He dropped one knee to the floor just in time to hear metal hammer against the stone. A shower of sparks to rained down on him. A sword struck the wall right where his head had been standing. A second too long and Lyr would be nothing but a memory now. Instincts took over and Lyr drew his sword.

Everything blurred in the darkness of the room. It mixed with the sound of his heart thundering against his chest. It filled his ears and mingled with his desperate grunts to escape the gloved hand that grasped for him. Rational thought slipped away and reduced Lyr to a warrior bent on survival. The calico gripped the stumpy neck beneath the leather helmet strap. He felt fur against his finger pads, reminding him another cat dwell in that armor, a cat that attacked him.

Then Lyr felt it, the slow sink of his blade through the leather armor. It pierced the flesh of the one who wore it. It equated to driving a dull knife into a pumpkin. Except…pumpkins don’t cry when you cut them. The thought pushed a gasp from the calico’s lips.

Lyr pulled at the sword until it slid free; it brought another gasping cry through his gaped lips. The cat in armor groaned and fell back against the wall before sliding down to sit. The fight with Lyr had ended for this unknown person in the armor. Now he battled for survival and Lyr could only watch as he lost.

“Oh god.” Lyr whispered; his voice cracking.

“We have to go,” Rose stood at his side with a warm trembling touch to his cheek.

“I killed him?” The statement echoed as more of a question, something to help him rationalize what he’d done. “He…almost killed me. I had to do it.”

“You did the right thing, Lyr.” Rose reassured him before kneeling down to take the strangers sword. “We have to go. We have to leave right now.”

“Right.” Lyr panted as he wiped his blade on the stranger’s cloak.

Lyr tried to ignore the sickness seeping into his stomach as the two of them hurried out into the hall once again. Everything was happening so fast; he could barely keep up. Rose pulled him across the hall to a small alcove where a statue of a unicorn sat. She found a small door leading into a passage behind the wall. She was quick to seal it behind them.

“We can’t go this way.” Lyr panted and fell to his knees. “They’re in the walls.”

“I know. That’s how that guy snuck up you.”

“You saved my life.” Tears welled up in Lyr’s eyes.

“And you saved mine. There’s no doubt that man meant to kill me.” Rose kept as calm as he’d ever seen her.

Let it be known, whatever training a knight goes through to temper him for war and teaches him the ability to lay down his life for liege and country is nothing compared to the training of a princess, who may one day meet her end to a shadow on the wall.

“We have to get out of here.” Lyr sheathed his sword with a trembling hand.

“We will. This passage leads straight to my father’s room and then onto a catwalk above throne room. Just beyond there is an opening the looks like a window. It’ll let us down just behind the stables.” Rose touched his cheek.

“How do I not know about these passageways?” Lyr closed his eyes at her touch, soothed by her calm demeanor.

“They’re very secret and they don’t connect to the others passages.” Rose smiled and pulled him to his feet giving him a reassuring smile. “Watch my back, bodyguard.”

“I will, I promise.” Lyr nodded.

Lyr closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He swallowed hard before exhaling his thoughts clear. He forced himself to push everything that had happened out of his mind. There would be time to deal with what he did, what he had to do, later. Right now, he had one goal, to get Rose to safety, no matter the cost.

Rose’s warm fingers laced with his. He could feel they were trembling. Beneath the fear lived a strength that gave him pause. He looked at her for a long moment in the dark of the dirty passageway and felt the shutter in his heart seep away as if he woke from a bad dream. He could tell, she smiled that same warm smile she always carried for him. In that, he took comfort and promised himself that he would keep it together, at least for her sake.

“If needs be, I’ll lay my life down for your safety. That is all that matters to me.” Lyr whispered warmly.

“That won’t be necessary, Lyr.” She whispered back. “I’m here for you. I’ll not leave you to die just to save myself. We’re in this together.”

“Together.”

Rose led him down the passageway into the darkness. Lyr willingly gave himself to her now, for only she knew the way to her father’s bedroom. Still, he’d make sure he wasn’t helpless. He gripped the hilt of his sword. They would all have to go through him if they wanted to get to her. He wouldn’t make it easy for them.


	6. Mark of the Crow

King Reiner’s bed stood empty. His room left in shambles from a quick and violent search. Even with the horrible sight, Rose managed to keep calm. She quickly discovered, no blood had been shed, not on a drop. She took solace in that face.

They lingered only for a moment longer before darting back across the hall and into the secret passageways that lead them to a large catwalk above the throne room.

“How much farther is it?” Lyr asked. He turned back to look at her.

“Not entirely sure, I haven’t been in this part of the tunnels for a long time.” She called up to him.

Rose instinctively reached for his hand as if he’d offered it. Lyr took it and they hurried on. They rounded a corner and Lyr led them blindly into a sheet of cobwebs. He gasped and flailed around as if being assaulted by a thousand bees. Rose stifled a giggle and quickly brushed the sticky mass from the fur on his face.

“Like I said, it’s been a very long time.” She whispered; the hint of giggle was like music to Lyr’s stressed ears.

“I got it in my mouth.” Lyr spat a few times before Rose pulled him along.

Just ahead, the air grew cooler and the smell of mildew was starting to thin. They came out of the passageways onto a stone walkway suspended above the throne room.

“Who built this-”

Rose shushed him with his fingertips as she cocked an ear to listen. Her father’s deep commanding tone echoed from the giant chamber below. In all the commotion, he must have made it to the throne room. Lyr saw the relief swell in Rose’s face when she peered over the railing to gaze down at him. Lyr followed her example. Oil braziers that clung to the walls and the candlelight from the chandelier helped light the large expanse. They could almost see the entire throne room from the safety of the catwalk.

The king stood just in front of his throne clad in gold plated armor. The furred collar of his cloak framed his face like a mane on the king of beasts. Two guards stood vigilant at his sides with their weapons drawn, ready to lay down their lives for him if they needed to.

The hollow thud of footfall against the carpet gained Lyr’s attention. Men clad all in black leather armor crossed the room. The largest of them led the group, his face covered by a black hood a crow sat on his shoulder. Definitely, the man Alteir met with earlier on in the garden.

The man slowed his pace as if presenting himself before the king. He pulled back his hood to reveal a leather mask with a white skull painted on it. At first glance, he appeared death incarnate. Two soldiers stood behind him with a man hanging limply from their arms. The man’s head was covered with a burlap sack with the fight all drained out of him.

A tall stately looking cat brought up the rear of the entourage. His silver plated armor lined and decorated with black and plum colored fabrics. His dark brown fur clung to his face from the rain. Two large ears stuck up through his wavy mesh of black hair that framed his face. A pair of hypnotic yellow eyes peered out from the darkness. He wore no mask; instead, a symbolic tiara rested on his brow. It was the same coiled snake emblem that decorated his chest plate. He came from the Du Mont fiefdom from the swamplands to the south.

“Lord Vincent Du Mont,” Rose whispered venomously.

Lyr quickly put a finger to his lips to remind her how well sound traveled in the large expanse. Rose nodded and remained quiet.

“Du Mont,” The king’s voice ground out callously. “How dare you attack my castle?”

“I assure you, your highness,” His accented voice as slick as his wet fur. “There was a sudden change of heart, you see.”

“Clearly,” The king lowered his tone.

The tall man stepped around the soldiers with his hands folded at his front. A decorated long sword swayed from his hips with each step. The king noted the weapon and kept a keen eye on him. If things didn’t go as planned, another option waited in the wing.

“As I traveled to meet you, I was visited by the most peculiar woman. She was tall and lean, dressed all in black feathers.” Du Mont paused in his bravado for charismatic flair. “She spoke to me of what is right and what is rightfully mine. Such a young nation you reign over. Your lineage is like a toddler to my eyes. You speak sweetly like a spoiled child aching for a new pony and your people eat it up like new mothers suckling their babes. You do not deserve this. Your money and your commerce should be mine. She merely gave me the means to take it.”

“We had an accord, Lord Du Mont.”

“You mean your daughter? Don’t insult me with the promised hand of your infantile child; she’s as worthless as your fetid offer.”

“Her worth goes beyond measure! If you dare speak ill of her again, I will vent your neck and watch you bleed out.” The king hissed as he started down the stairs.

The masked man flinched and gripped the hilt of his sword but the crow’s caw stayed his hand.

“Those are big words with no substance. Your men have fallen, your kingdom is conquered and there is no one here to save you.”

“We shall see,” The king uttered.

“You tip your hand and reveal that you have nothing.” Du Mont beckoned the soldiers to drag their quarry forward. “Behold; your ace in the hole.”

Du Mont jerked the bag free from the man’s head to reveal Alteir. Blood poured from the deep gash on his cheek and forehead. One eye was swollen shut and unseeing. His four pearly fangs ripped from his gums, filling his mouth with blood to the point he choked on it.

Lyr clenched his teeth and tensed. Tears welled in his eyes as he stared hopelessly down to the man he called father. Rose tightened her grip in his hand and it kept him from crying out to Alteir. Lyr felt Rose’s warm close in on him as she touched his face to bring his eyes to meet hers. With her thumb, she caressed his tears away. The look in her eyes strengthened him.

“As you can see, your cavalry is the reason we’re here. Your master tactician was all too eager to reveal his secrets to us when pressed hard enough.” Again Du Mont’s voice peaked in a chiding bravado. “To think, your kingdom fell because of your best friend’s loose lips. What a pity.”

“Whatever reason for Alteir’s treachery, I’m sure it was sound.” A sad tone, he failed to hide, filled King Reiner’s voice.

 “He had his reasons, and luckily for me, they coincided with my own.” Du Mont grabbed a handful of Alteir’s hair and pulled hard. “Do you wish to tell him, or shall I?”

The masked man flexed beneath his armor and stared at the lord as if he’d been wronged. “Silence your filthy mouth, worm,” The masked man’s voice ground like gravel on stone. It sounded deeper against the muting of his mask. “Release your hand from him at once.”

Du Mont tensed as his fingers flayed the next second. Alteir's head lolled to the side. His breath became ragged and shallow. His candle flickered on the edge of snuffing out. The end approached.

“What does it matter? He’ll be dead soon and so will the king.” Du Mont rested his hand on his hilt. His yellow eyes narrowed to slits. “It’s best you back the ones that can aid you in the long run.”

The masked man’s blade tore free from its sheath, followed by another sharp caw of the crow on his shoulder. A precise swipe brought the blade tip just short of severing the lord’s head from his neck. A brought a trickle of blood seeping through the fur at his Adam’s apple. Du Mont could barely swallow without risk of causing more damage to himself.

“Silence yourself, false king. I will bear no more speeches and bravado.” The man rumbled. “You’re here because you’re my pawn. Without you, I could have never gotten this close to the Alteir. But I have him now and that makes your usefulness obsolete. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Du Mont sighed and took a step back. He immediately checked the wound at his throat, feeling the wet warmth of his blood seeping into his fur.

The masked man turned his attention back to King Reiner who stared hopelessly at Alteir. “There are two others missing from this reunion. Your daughter, Roslynda and a boy called Lyr. I wish to have them brought before me, now.”

“Wish all you want. I am no genie.” The King swallowed hard as he readied his weapon. His two men moved into position behind him, ready to strike.

“Bring them to me or I shall burn this paltry keep to the ground.”

“You may try,” King Reiner challenged as he strode down the remaining stairs to confront the man.

The two soldiers immediately dropped Alteir to the floor, as they went for their weapons. The masked man simply lifted his hand to stop them. Both the soldiers looked at each other and then back to the man in black. The crow cawed but the man only flexed his outstretched hand into a fist.

“It is alright, mother. They’re no challenge.” His whispered but his voice echoed high into the chamber.

Lyr and Rose heard every word. Did he say, mother? Lyr thought as he looked around. Did they miss seeing another person in the room? No, he referred to the crow itself. How? Lyr wondered, but his question remained unanswered. Instead, the crow fluttered away to perch on one of the other shoulder’s helmets. He let out a shrill cry that muffled on his face guard.

“Keep her safe.” He said. His voice urged the threat and the soldier nodded.

With the masked man distracted, the king sought his opening. The king lunge lunged quickly. It awarded him a shallow gash at the masked man’s ribs as he managed to dodge the full brunt of the fatal blow. Rose tensed up as the man’s broadsword cut the air just above the king’s head. The old man moved with a decisive ducking spin to face his attacker again. Before the masked man could attack, they two guards set upon him.

A muffled grunt caught in the man’s mask as he parried another fatal blow. This one quickly became deadly for the poor guard who dealt it. It left his entire flank opened to the masked man’s retribution. He sunk his blade deep into the chink just under the guard’s armpit. A ragged cough echoed inside the guard’s helmet as he fell away, writhing on the ground as soon as he hit. Lyr knew the soldier’s chest filled with blood and soon, he’d suffocate to death.

The other guard stepped back, appalled by the how quickly the stranger dispatched his compatriot. And soon that he would follow in that fate. With his guard down, the man in black hammered the side of the guard’s helmet with his blade. The metal protected from the cut but the weight behind the swing crumpled the helmet into his skull. The crunch of bone barely sounded out louder than grinding of the sword against the metal. The guard fell to his knees and toppled forward on the ornate rug, dead before he hit the floor.

The masked man turned to face the king and reached out to him. “No!” He shouted.

Only then did Lyr notice Du Mont sneaking up behind King Reiner. The blade flashed so quickly no one could have stopped it. The king grunted and cried out as a silvery blade burst from his chest. Lord Du Mont’s backstab had been quick, concise, and very successful. King Reiner grunted and fumbled his blade before falling to his knees.

“You fool, he was mine!” The masked man yelled as he lurched forward.

“FATHER!!!”

Having been so consumed by the scene; Lyr didn’t think to protect Rose from the outcome. Her voice shattered the room, bringing all eyes up to them on the catwalk. Tears ran down her face as she reached over the stone railing to her father.

“Mother, now!” The masked man cried out and the crow took flight.

King Reiner reached out her. The corners of his mouth dipped into a frown as he shook his head. He sighed one last time before tumbling forward onto the floor and his world went black.

The large black mass of feathers barreled towards them. Lyr grabbed Rose’s hand and pulled her along the catwalk towards the other opening of the passageway. The calico could hear the masked man uttering orders from below.

“You idiots, get this man to the carriages.” He barked before turning on the Du Mont. “We will settle this later!”

The bird rose up over the railing and exploded into a black feather cloud in front of them. Lyr toppled back, pulling Rose down on top of him. When the cloud dispersed, it left behind a tall slender Sphynx. Her large ears curled back like the horns of a Minotaur. Her muted gray, hairless flesh wrinkled amidst the flowing robe of feathers she wore. A swirling blackness filled her glowing purple eyes as they drew too sharp slits. They threatened to pierce the young knight’s heart.

“We’ve been expecting you.” Her whisper rode on a hissing voice that chilled him to the bone. “Come now, don’t make this difficult.”

Rose pushed away from Lyr, darting forward and just under the swiping grasp of the woman. Her flight instincts carried her away. Lyr noted Rose’s distraction opening the way for him and he took it. The once-crow whirled around to grab at her, and Lyr took a clumsy swipe at the woman with his sword. It hit, but only barely. A small flesh wound opened on her side. She reeled away giving Lyr enough room to chase after Rose.

Soon they ducked back into the passageway and quickly pushed the heavy stone door closed behind them. Lyr fumbled around in the dark finding a wedged shaped stone to shove under the door. When the woman hit it, it held solidly under her weight. Lyr took Rose’s hands as the tore off down the corridor. The door wouldn’t hold for long but it might just buy them enough time to escape.


	7. The Getaway

Thunder rolled all around them but it didn’t come from nature. It came from the footfall of hundreds of soldiers searching for them. The sound of heavy warhammers drumming against the wall followed quickly afterward. The soldiers would get in and when they did, Lyr and Rose would be dead.

Rose didn’t let it deter her, nor did she collapse under the weight of watching her father die before her very eyes. She focused on getting out, focused on their survival and she meant to succeed.

They kept their bodies low to the ground scurrying like rats through the walls of a sinking ship. They had to keep their noise at a minimum. Even an inkling of sound could reveal where they were and then they’d be set upon. Lyr grew tired under the weight of his pack and his armor plate never felt heavier. His legs cramped and his shoulders tensed but he’d not give up until they were out.

“There!” Rose panted.

Lyr smelled it long before he saw it, the sweet wet scent of the outer world. The rain came down in sheets; the sounds of the large drops patted the lip of the opening. Thunder, real thunder echoed in the distance. It would work to cover them in the darkness once they were out.

Rose darted forward in a full sprint; the excitement of freedom revitalized her. Lyr forced himself to follow at the same speed. Something nagged at him to slow down but he didn’t have a chance to realize it before the wall to the right crumbled in between them.

A dust cloud filled the tight expanse; Lyr could barely see Rose on the other side of it. Then his field of vision went dark, completely blocked by a large soldier dressed all in black. He slammed a large wooden hammer down right where Lyr had been standing a moment ago if he’d not rolled out of the way.

“Lyr!” Rose called out to him as another soldier filled in the gap.

“Tell Krom and his mother we have them.” The larger soldier muttered.

 Lyr saw a shadow just outside the hole disappear. Soon reinforcements would be there to thwart their escape.

Another hammer smash hit the wall next to Lyr. He managed to draw his sword and pushed off the soldier in the wrong direction. The gap between him and Rose grew wider.

“Come here!” The smaller soldier yelled, lunging for Rose.

“No!” Lyr reached out to her and felt the hammer graze his hand.

The hard snap sent a shockwave of pain rippling through him but his fear for Rose forced him to swallow it down. He knew that at least two of his fingers and a few bones in his hand broke under the weight of the maul. Lyr cried out and pulled his arm tight to his stomach like a wounded animal. Again, he back peddled, widening the gap. His heart pounded in his ears so loudly, he barely missed Rose calling out his name.

“Lyr!”

“Run, just run,” Lyr ordered willing to accept his fate.

“No!” Rose’s borrowed sword sunk slowly through the guard’s chest and pinned him to the wall.

The guard flailed out to her uselessly. He toppled to the ground on top of the sword, heaving and gasping as it rended his innards. Rose pressed her back against the wall and hurried to join Lyr.

Lyr fell back against the wall. Pained throbbed through him every time he moved. It threatened to cause him to black out but he had to hold on, for Rose’s sake.

The larger soldier reared back with his hammer, ready to add the final smash to Lyr’s body when Rose grabbed the head of it and pulled as hard as she could. The soldier fumbled back and cracked his shoulder against the wall. He released the hammer and it fell to the floor, nearly smashing Rose’s feet.

The surprising move startled her into darting back. She tripped over a pile of debris blocking the passageway and let out a loud grunt when she fell. The sound spurred Lyr into moving. He barely made it passed the larger soldier’s grasping hands before his foot caught on a piece of rock. In his fumbling, he managed to find Rose, who caught him and kept him from falling over.

Together again, he thought. It felt like a sweet breath of fresh air. Weary tears welled in Lyr’s eyes as they hurried on towards the opening and on to freedom.

***

Bok grew restless from waiting. He’d been done with his task of making room in his cart for almost an hour now. He was consumed by the need to leave, right this very second. Who was this pencil neck? He wondered. Bok shifted a large chest of gold to its hiding spot under the shelves.

“The audacity of this guy,” He grunted, putting the fake books in front of the chest to conceal it. “He simply walks up and chuck a large bag of gold at me and says. ‘I have need of your service’ like I’m some kind of streetwalker.”

Bok grumbled to himself. To be fair, the bag of gold felt heavier than anything he’d make in a day’s work. At least, twice as much as he’d made on this trip north and that meant a satisfying summer season off. Still, why would he have to park his wagon behind the castle? It seemed shady at best.

Then the whole cart shifted and shook violently. Bok tumbled face first into a pile of burlap coffee bean sacks. It offered very little give and the rough fabric left his face feeling a bit rug burned. He got to his feet and erupted from the back of his carriage in a huff. He heard the commotion first before he realized that there were two youths on top of his precious cart.

“What are you doing here?” The girl asked the pencil neck.

“Oh, princess, thank god you’re safe.”

Princess? Bok felt a greedy tingle in his stomach. When he opened his mouth to speak, the pencil neck started yammering yet again.

“Alteir warned me of the danger, said you might try to escape this way.” The black cat adjusted his glasses.

“I guess that’s why he’s the master tactician.” The girl, the princess said, turned around to help the other youth down.

“Lyr, you’re hurt.” The pencil neck sounded concerned as he reached up to ease the youth down. Wait! This youth looked rather familiar.

“You!” Lyr and Bok said at the same time.

“Ah man, I knew you were trouble the first time I met you.” Bok gritted his teeth. Both the pencil neck and the princess hushed him.

“Simon,” The youth, Lyr, looked at the pencil neck that now had a name. “Of all the cohorts you could drum up, you got him.”

“He has the smallest wagon and he seemed very discrete-” Simon stammered before the stumpy cat interrupted.

“And I was the only one left in the square for you to bribe.”

“Fine, yes.” Simon sounded indignant. “Either way, there is no time for this. You have to go now. They’re hunting for you and they will catch you.”

“Wait, what? Hunting? Who’s hunting you?” Bok's face immediately twisted in regret for his agreeing to help them.

The princess turned and looked at the small cat; her calm demeanor immediately taking control of the situation. She gripped both sides of his face and looked at him with the sincerity of an angel.

“There are bad men that mean to do us harm. They’ve already killed my father, the king, and his master tactician.” Rose paused at the lump forming in her throat.

Bok’s face softened when he heard the sound of her tears being held at bay.

“They’ll kill me and my bodyguard too. Please, you have to help us.”

It was more of her pleading look and her words that had already swayed him. The bag load of money and the fact that the fey knight put his own safety on the line to rescue him earlier were only consolations in his decision to help.

“Alright, get in.” He grumbled “There’s only room for two of you, though. I’m not ditching my wares in addition to this inconvenience.”

“That’s unnecessary, anyway.” Simon sighed. “I have to go back and see if I can help anyone else.”

“What?” Princess gasped.

“You know I’m right on this.” Simon folded his hands at his back. “Besides, you have Lyr and this Bok chap to help you. You’ll be alright.”

“But...” Even as she spoke, she knew he was right. “Take care of yourself, old man, and don’t take any unnecessary chances.”

“What, and risk scuffing my shoes? Perish the thought.”

Neither Lyr nor Rose laughed. Instead, they embraced the older man for a moment before getting into the back of the wagon. Bok closed the hatch and locked it, before turning around and nearly running into Simon. The sudden appearance of the lanky cat caused the smaller cat to fall back against the hard wood of his cart.

“Take care of them.” Simon’s face bent in sadness. It filled with regret for not being able to do more.

 “We have a contract, pencil neck. To a member of the merchant’s guild, it’s a bond more sacred than marriage. I’ll get them to the safe house.” Bok’s words were harsher than his softened features let on.

“Thank you.”

“Take care, pencil neck. Don’t die too fast.” Bok joked, though not even he laughed.

Simon helped him up into his seat and watched as he snapped the reigns tight on the large ox pulling his cart. It moved at a snail’s pace, the right place to keep from rousing suspicion.

Simon watched for as long as he could before the carriage disappeared into the rainy blackness before turning back towards the castle keep. His closest friends were dead, and he had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t witness another dawn either.


	8. The Unlikely Healer

Lyr could see just beyond the hatch into the cart. The heavy shadows made it seem like it was dark outside. It left Lyr wondering if it was still night. They’d lost track of time in the dark compartment of the carriage. Rose assured him half a dozen times that a beautiful pink morning sun worked to fight its way through the canopy of leaves above.

A chilly breeze wafted through the open door and caught the scent of steeping coffee. The rich aroma revitalized him. Lyr shift from his spot next to the bag of beans. He had an itch to move but the stumpy cat, Bok, insisted that he keep his hand propped on the stool, while he examined it.

It surprised Lyr to see how gentle and deft the grumpy cat’s hands were. It took an impressive about of skill to impress Lyr and Bok managed to deliver. He barely felt the stumpy cat’s claws working through the fur on the back of his hand to get a closer look at the flesh beneath.

Lucky for Lyr, the pain dwindled sometime in the night while he slept. Now, it only hurt when he tried to make a fist. Lyr knew only the most basic field medicine but the fact that the pain was going away and he could move his fingers at all were all good things.

 “How does it look, Mr. Bok?” Rose called from the back door, where she waited to hear the news.

“It’s not good,” Bok grunted as he whipped the back of his neck. “I might have to amputate.”

“What!?” Lyr gasped and jolted.

The boy’s reaction awarded him a deep belly laugh from the stumpy cat. Bok pressed a hand to his chest plate and smirked. “I’m just messing with you, kid. Your middle finger’s broken and the meat of your hand is bruised. Beyond that, you should be fine.”

“That was a cruel trick to play.” Panicked tears filled Lyr’s eyes.

“Life is cruel,” Bok’s smile fell away, as he pulled a dingy brown roll of cloth from one of the shelves. “And sometimes humor is the only thing that makes it more bearable. You should remember that.”

“I don’t really think there’s anything to joke about, especially after last night.” Lyr spat, his voice not unlike an angry child.

Rose stepped back inside and leaned against the frame of the door. Lyr felt suddenly self-conscious of his infantile reaction. He wanted to chalk it up to having a terrible night or maybe blame it on the lack of sleep but anyway he looked at it, he knew it wasn’t the proper way to act.

Bok ignored the whining and unrolled the brown fabric, revealing a medical bag filled with a variety of test tubes, jars, clean bandages, stitching equipment and more. Lyr recognized it as a military grade medical kit much like the ones Alteir used to use. It even smelled of the same antiseptic scent as his father’s.

The stumpy cat picked up a small bag filled with smooth polished rock and rested it on top of the iron kettle warmer on the little stove in the corner of the wagon next to the coffee bean sacks. Lyr watched his thin lips count to ten before he pulled the sack away and shifted the stones around inside of it. He laid the bag over the back of Lyr’s hand. At first, it felt too hot but after a moment the warmth lingered and began to sooth the pain away. “Leave this hot press on until it gets cold. Take it off for ten minutes, then repeat. It should reduce the swelling in your hand.” Bok explained as he pulled out a long polished leather strip.

“There not much I can do about your broken finger other than wrapping it with another one. It’ll hurt but I can give you some crushed Maltal leaf for the pain. You may experience hot flashes or a fever but that’s only natural.” Bok said, showing Lyr how to hold his ring finger and middle finger together as tightly as he can.

It hurt. Lyr winced and bit down hard enough to feel his teeth grind. The added pressure of the leather strip being wrapped around his fingers repeatedly sent waves of prickling pain through him. Rose offered him a gentle smile bringing him to focus on her rather than the pain. He could tell she didn’t like seeing him hurting by the way she chewed her bottom lip and averted her eyes every time he winced but she endured for him.

“There you go!” Bok chuckled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sugar candy. “A lemon drop for my good little girl.” His chiding tone ignited a fire in Lyr.

“I’m not a girl, you twat.”

“Lyr!” Rose cupped her hands over her mouth.

A blush spiked the dirty white fur at Lyr’s cheeks but before he could utter an apology, Bok burst into laughter and slapped Lyr’s shoulder hard enough to jostle his whole body.

“That’s the fiery spirit that’ll keep you from dying.” Bok wiped his eyes as if the interaction had been funny enough produce tears.

“Still,”

“No, no, don’t ruin this moment by being pathetic, little knight.” Bok patted the metal of his chest plate hard enough to make it ring. “You’ve won my favor. Just be a burly guy who ripped a good joke and leave it at that.”

Lyr looked up at Rose, who gave him a crooked smirk and nodded. Lyr thought it best to just drop the whole thing and roll with it.

Bok fished a small crimp of paper from the medical roll and placed a few dry leaves in it. “Alright, take one of these whenever you’re having pain. Don’t take more than two before mealtimes and eat something when you do. They’ll make you nauseous otherwise.”

“Great, so we’ll be swinging by a tavern on our way, then?” Lyr asked as he took the packet and tucked it into the pouch at his hip.

“No,” Bok rumbled a chuckle. “Good try, princess.”

Lyr’s eyebrows furrowed and Bok started snickering again. This time, Rose’s unmistakable giggle joined in.

“Your feathers are so easily ruffled.” Bok looked around the room. “I have dried fruit and jerky in those sacks on the wall next to that waterskin, help yourselves, I’ll send you the bill later. There are cups around here somewhere. I also made coffee, in the kettle. There’s sugar cane in one of these bags if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Thank you, Bok,” Rose spoke sweetly. “Your hospitality goes above and beyond.” She gave him a peck down the part in his short brown hair.

“Aw, shucks, ma’am,” His fake accent made her smile. “Everyone settle in, we’ll be at the safe house in no time.”

After a brief goodbye, Bok closed and locked the back hatch. Rose started looking around for the cups while Lyr sat against the sacks of coffee beans, feeling useless. They both were quiet.

And in that silence, Lyr’s sadness snuck up on him. He remembered seeing Alteir’s broken and battered form hanging lifelessly from those soldiers’ arms. Watching as the once ally Lord Du Mont cut King Reiner down as if it came off the very pages of a tragedy. Tears welled up to the brink in his eyes until they spilled over, coursing down his cheeks.

“I know,” Rose answered the unasked question as she set a pair metal cups next to Lyr’s leg.

Lyr didn’t respond. He just watched the water slosh and ripple over the sides of the cups because of the cart’s vibration. It never ceased to amaze him just how much Rose understood him in the short time they’d been together.

Rose slowly knelt next to him, laying out a few strips of the jerky over her thigh before making a small pile of dried apricots on Lyr’s. He looked at the wrinkled orange remnants of fruit and then up at Rose. Her orange fur disheveled from crawling around in the ancient passageways of the castle. Her long wavy hair hung messily from a quickly assembled ponytail. She wore her outdoor clothes under Lyr’s old training leather armor, torn and smothered with mud. She looked like a soldier from the trenches but she still managed to be so beautiful. Again, she’d caught Lyr’s gaze lingering too long. It brought a smile to her lips as she tucked a strand of hair back from her face. A sad smile it may have been, but a smile nonetheless.

“I-” Lyr started to say but Rose shook her head.

“Eat something, so you can take your medicine.”

The pain in his hand subsided again, lost to the greater pain of his thoughts. “I just can’t believe it.”

“I know.” Rose found the strength to keep her composure. “Just a few hours ago, we joked about running away together. We teased about going on an adventure. One last hoorah before marriage forced me to settle down.”

“The cosmos has a sick sense of humor.”

“I wish…” Rose’s voice hitched and for the first time since this whole thing began, Lyr saw passed the façade at how frail she could be. “I could have told my father I loved him. I wish we could have made up after our fight. The idea that he died thinking I hated him tears me apart.”

Her shoulders hitched and the levee broke. Tears filled her eyes and she fought to blink them away but they were replaced just as quick. Lyr didn’t know how to respond. Her breaking down wasn’t something he could set aside with idle chat. When his parents died, they knew how he felt about them. He cried and clung to them as they faded, but this? Nothing could prepare anyone for this.

“The king knew you loved him,” Lyr said without thinking.

Lyr wasn’t sure if he understood his reasoning. What did he know? Other than the fact that a mother and a father know their kids and love them in spite of all the things they do wrong. Isn’t that how it worked? Rose teetered on her knees as she wept. Her voice choked to the point that Lyr couldn’t understand what she said in response.

A light came on inside of Lyr’s mind, a memory of the desperate look in King Reiner’s eyes after Du Mont stabbed him. The concern for his daughter’s safety had been thick in his eyes, or maybe disappointment for not being able to protect her? Lyr couldn’t be sure, but he knew those were the responses a loving and doting parent would have.

“King Reiner loved you, and I believe he knew you loved him too. Because that’s what families do.”

Lyr remembered when he did the same things when he was younger. It would infuriate his family but they were quick to forgive him. And even when they said terrible things to one another, it didn’t make the love between them any less real, of that he was certain.

Lyr took Rose’s hand in his. “Families fight and then they make up, that’s just what they do. And they never forget that they love one another, even if they don’t always know how to show it.”

Rose sniffled hard and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “Do you…really believe that?”

“I do.”

Rose fell against him with her face pressed tightly to the side of his head and she started sobbing again. Lyr couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this but now wasn’t the time for questions. If she wanted to talk about it, she would. Right now, he needed to focus on holding her and let her cry.

Then something happened, something strange. It sent a tingling wave through the young knight’s body. Through the sobbed cries and clinging grasp of Rose’s arms, the ginger cat pressed a kiss to the side of Lyr’s neck. It was so faint that he may have missed it if he hadn’t wanted to do the same thing to her. Lyr turned his head slightly and pressed a comforting kiss to her cheek and held her close.


	9. The Not So Safe House

Lyr peaked from around the tree once more. He counted twelve people, standing around the hatch leading down to the underground safe house. Of the twelve people, the masked man, Krom, as Lyr took to calling him, stood directly in front of the shrouded entrance with his mother close by. She hugged the handle of her black lacy parasol with a sour look on her face. Bok teased that her unhappiness came from standing around in the sun instead of hiding in her cave. None of them laughed.

Of the dozen men, two stood off to the side hold Alteir’s limp body. The master tactician barely clung to life now. Milky white cataracts seeped into his eyes and the only noises he made now were desperate gaunt moans and shallow wheezing. Lyr did what he could to avert his gaze from the ghastly scene.

Two more men stood at the peak of the hill on top of the safe housekeeping a vigilant lookout for Rose and Lyr. Another two guards paced around the verge at the edge of the road, scouring for any evidence of them being there and then leaving. The last two guards held the arms of another man to keep him from running. Even with his head wrapped in a black shawl, Lyr knew it could only be one person just by the clothes he wore.

“Simon,” Rose whispered and Bok reached up to cover her mouth.

Lyr nodded and shifted for a better look the bushes he hid behind. Just then, Du Mont appeared through the hanging vines that shrouded the entrance to the safe house. He had an unhappy look on his angular face. Whatever he found inside the safe house, obviously, wasn’t what he was looking for.

“Well?” Krom stated loudly.

Du Mont wiped his hands on the closest soldier’s cape. “There’s plenty of food and water below, also plenty of cobwebs and dust too. No one’s been through here.”

“Damn,” Krom grunted beneath his mask. “Either the old man is a liar, or they haven’t made it this far.”

Du Mont snatched the shawl from the man’s head and as predicted, Simon blinked away from the midday sun. He was quick to pull a hand away from the guard holding it, so he could wipe his eyes. The guard snatched it away again just as fast.

 “Barbarians,” Simon hissed as he glared at the masked man through pinched eyes. “I’ve done as you’ve asked, now release me.”

“No,” Krom stepped forward. “I asked you to take me to the children, they’re not here.”

“What did you expect would happen?” Simon’s nasally voice hit a shriek. “You have two young people walking through the rain with no sleep and heavy hearts because you butchered their loved ones. Did you think they would sprint here as carefree as school children at play?”

Krom grumbled and slowly drew his broad sword. “I don’t care for your tone.”

Simon pursed his lips. “And I don’t care for idle threats every time you don’t get your way. I’ve raised twelve children in my day. I didn’t take this spoiled brat attitude from them then, and I’ll be damned if I’ll take it from you now.”

Krom yelled in anger and lunged forward, his blade hit home slowly sinking into the midsection of one of the guards holding Simon. The guttural sound of blood filling the guard's faceguard caused Lyr to cover his mouth. Even Bok’s eyes jetted open wide in shock at the surprise attack.

Simon, however, stood steadfast to the threat. In the same instant, he snatched his arm away from the other guard and straightened his flannel vest.

“Are you quite finished with your temper tantrum?”

The question caused Krom flex every muscle in his body until he started to quake with fury. Even his mother pressed her hands to her lips to stifle a building laugh. Du Mont stood by with a sneer on his face as if he’d soiled himself and needed to escape the smell.

“Good,” Simon spat. “Why is it so damned important for you to find these two children? You’ve already taken the castle. You’ve destroyed King Reiner’s army and all but murdered his master tactician. You’ve won. Why are you out here chasing these two children?”

Krom took a deep breath and exhaled, his breath echoing behind his mask. “My reasons are my own, librarian. That’ll be enough for you.”

“Then if we’re concluded here, I must get back and tend to the wounded. I’d imagine the traitor here-” Simon motioned to Du Mont with a casual flitter of his hand. “Will want some serfs he can kick around to make himself feel better for his lack of morals and or lower girth.”

This time Krom’s mother laughed aloud. The strange chittering sounded more insect-like than laughter. Everyone looked at her in surprise. Even Krom swiveled around to peer at her from over his shoulder. Her powerful eyes were lidded as she sized Simon up a red tint breathing life into her cheeks.

“You Naballian men,” She said coyly. “You’re forged of sterner stuff. All of you.”

The woman’s tone echoed differently this time, hot and smoky, not unlike a blazing campfire but there was a naïve lilting sound to it. It echoed deep into the young calico’s mind and he felt his own cheeks start to blush hotly.

“What a woman.” Bok’s statement came out louder than a whisper and Lyr reached down covering his mouth. The stumpy cat’s face was blazing hot too.

It must be a spell; Lyr thought and looked at Simon. The stately man teetered on his own two feet, while Du Mont fished around his belt nonchalantly in a lewd fashion. Even the guards seemed to be in a lustful haze now. Krom stood vigilant against his mother’s strange magic.

“Cover your ears.”

Lyr hands flew up over his ears and Bok followed suit. Rose cocked her head and looked at them as though they were going crazy. After watching for a few more seconds, it didn’t take long for her to figure out what the witch was up too.

“Get out of my mind.” Simon shook his head quickly and took a step back.

The witch woman’s eyes snapped open in shock. She hadn’t anticipated that his will would be this strong. She licked her lips at the implication and sauntered a step closer.

“Sterner stuff indeed,” She cooed, her voice went back to its original whispering hiss tone again.

“I’m leaving. This farce has gone on long enough.” Simon turned and started back towards the castle.

“No man has ever withstood my charms.” The witch spoke, taking a few steps after him.

“You’ll find that not all men kneel to such propositions, ma’am.” Simon stopped and tucked his hands into his pockets, not bothering to look back.

“Then perhaps you can just lay there and take it.”

The witch snapped her hand up and a bolt of witchfire green light flashed from her fingertips hammering Simon in the back. It had been so quick that no one had time to react. Even Simon stood right where he was for a second longer before falling to his knees and flopping over on the dirt path without a sound.

Rose closed her eyes and covered her mouth as tears pushed their way through her thick eyelashes. Lyr’s head was spinning to the point he nearly fell over. What was happening to their very existence right now? He wondered. It felt as if everything were sinking into the abyss of hell. Who was this masked man that wished them to suffer so much?

Everyone stood silent for a long moment, staring at Simon as if he were going to get up at any moment.

“Mother,” Krom finally spoke. “I need council. What shall I do next?”

“We will wait here for three moons. If they’d not come by then, we’ve been duped and will have to come up with another plan.” She seemed oddly calm in light of what happened. “Post your men around the road. Keep them hidden.”

“And what do you wish of me?” Du Mont asked. He had the look of a man who realized he’d bitten off more than he could chew.

“You’ll be in charge of the husk.” Her glowing purple eyes stared pointedly at Alteir.

“Don’t speak of him as such, mother,” Krom interjected.

“Silence, boy, you will do as you’re told.”

Bok had seen more than enough already. He grabbed Lyr and Rose hands in his and pulled them back through the thick foliage. They followed him down the slope that led to where he left his carriage. The bright colors were barely hidden against the greens and browns of the forest.

“Where are we going?” Rose asked, her voice cracked from the lingering tears.

“Well, I can’t very well leave you here with the psycho and her boy.” Bok unlocked the back hatch and pulled it down. “I’ll take you to another place I know. It’s not all fancy like this, but at least you’ll be safe there.”

Lyr took Rose’s hand as they climbed inside the wagon. Before they could even get comfortable, they were closed into darkness. Neither of them bothered to light the lantern. Nor did either of them speak. Instead, Lyr lay back against the coffee bean sack trying to keep from crying. It wasn’t until he felt the weight of Rose against his chest. The warmth of her face pressed to his neck that he let the first tear fall.

What if they were only prolonging the inevitable? He tried to push the thought from his mind. But it nagged at him to answer. He refused and instead of dwelling on it; he wrapped his arms around Rose and pushed back into the hug. There he found strength and security for the moment. A soft moan escaped her lips, told him she felt the same way.

Lyr folded one of the medicine leaves from his pouch and tucked it between his cheek and his gums. It tasted bitter and strangely like copper, but soon he felt numbness radiating throughout his mouth. Everything grew warm and soothing and his eyes felt heavy. No more time to worry, he tried to think but it was too late. 

***

The cart’s wares jingled and jangled in some strange sonata as it slowly swayed along the pathway. Not unlike a hammock gently rocking in a summer breeze. It promised to lull anyone to sleep if they were willing to lay in it. The medicine did the trick. He felt no pain, only a long lingering numbness in his body. It caused a fever leaving Lyr slipping in an out of consciousness for god only knows how long. He couldn’t remember anything during that time. It didn’t help that the long sunny day outside kept the interior of the cart warm and cozy like a nest.

At one point, Lyr imagined he saw Rose bathing from a bucket. His eyes were heavy and watery from his medicine induced sickness. She’d wiped her fur clean with cold water and wiped off with a towel treated with flower scented oil. The scene only lasted a moment before he slipped away again.

“Lyr, you’re burning up.” A beautiful voice echoed into the void.

It was followed by the spicy scent of cinnamon oil. The lingering alcoholic undertone to the scent was intoxicating but no near as much as the soft lips that touched his brow. The ice cold cloth that dabbed his neck was so cold, it burned.

“Shh, rest now.” A mothering tone whispered.

“Mother?” Lyr asked, his voice was a mutter on trembling lips.

A warm kiss pressed firmly to his lips confirmed the reasoning images just off the blackness. His mother had been dead and gone for years now. Whoever’s voice he heard didn’t belong to his mother. Fear gripped him suddenly. Something urged him to hold onto her sweet tone for as long as he could, or else join his mother in the beyond.


	10. Beyond the Familiar Roads

Lyr woke up with a gasp, his brow and face covered in sweat. It was pitch black all around him. The entire world tossed and turned as if it were about to roll over. What was happening? He blindly grasped anything that could keep him from falling over. The music the wares once played became nothing more than a cacophony of clattering that filled the small cart. Drumming could be heard from outside, drumming against the side and roof of the cart. It sounded like ten thousand slings shooting rocks against the wood.

Lyr’s mind raced, filled with images of men outside threatening to roll the cart. Were they under attack? The mere thought made his head pound and his heart race. The admonishing voice of Alteir boomed in the back of his mind. Some bodyguard you are! How could he let this happen?

“Rose!” He called out and then everything seemed to settle in his mind.

Lyr felt the weight of her body straddled his. The soft cooing comfort of her voice caught in the crest of his ears. He couldn’t hear what she was saying over the pounding of his heart but he knew they were sweet words to sooth him.

Everything seemed to make more sense in this moment of clarity. Bok must have taken the cart off the path to keep them hidden. That why everything was rocking so hard. The drumming against the outside of cart was nothing more than rain coming down in heavy sheets. The world wasn’t coming to an end. He’d not failed his duties as a bodyguard and the soft voice he’d heard in his sleep had been…

“Finally, your fever broke,” Rose whispered and pushed a kiss to his temple. “Thank god. You were so hot to the touch that I thought your brain might fry.”

“What?”

“I did everything I could to keep you cool, short of taking off your armor,” Rose confessed. “I’d have done that too if I knew how. Its design is different.”

Lyr pressed both of his hands to his protective chest plate. “I…I Alteir changed the fitting because I don’t like my armor coming off easily. It protects me.”

The phrase sounded foreign in the midst of the conversation. He knew that Rose thought so too by the way her head tilted to the side. Her large green eyes begged the question, why? Lyr stammered to recover.

“Thank you for caring for me in my hour of need.” Lyr hoped the subject change would smooth things over. “Some bodyguard I’m turning out to be.”

Rose nodded and sighed. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. At a time in our lives, that’s only known peace, I doubt anyone’s trained for this sort of thing.”

“Still.” Lyr shrugged.

“Lyr,” Rose paused on a thought for a moment. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’d tell me if you were hiding something, right?”

It was now Lyr’s turn to pause for a moment of contemplation over the odd question. Besides the sworn oath that Lyr took when he because her bodyguard, they’d bonded on a deeper level. They were friends. Over the last few days, they’d even become cohorts. There’d even been kisses that could blossom into something more than friendship. Why would she ask such a question?

“If there was anything-” Lyr stopped talking the moment the entire cart jostled to a stop. “I suppose we’re here.”

Rose pursed her lips, letting the subject drop for now. “Where do you suppose ‘here’ is?”

Lyr shrugged. The lack of windows in the cart made it hard to tell. The back hatch was locked from the outside, so they couldn’t just open the door and see for themselves. He felt Rose’s weight shift off of him and the hollow sound of her boots on the wooden floor.

Voices could be heard mumbling from outside. Lyr could barely hear them over the rain. One of them belonged to Bok for sure. His voice god louder as he rounded the side of the wagon and soon Lyr could hear the jostling of the lock.

When the door swung open, Lyr expected the sweet smell rain and grass but was sorely disappointed. Something smelled terrible. A smell he’d not smelled since he was a boy, a sickening scent of things long dead, molded, and earthy. It smelled like wet and mildew, mixed with rotten meat. Rose covered her mouth and gagged at the startlingly pungent scent.

“What’s the matter, kids? Never been to a swamp before?” Bok snickered. His face was wrapped in a cloth to keep the rain off of him.

“A swamp?” Rose uttered, trying to breathe through her mouth.

“That’s right. Grab your crap, we’re here.”

Bok waited for barely a minute before holding out his hand to help her down. It took some doing but Lyr managed to get to his feet and follow behind, immediately regretting it the moment his boots touched the soft ground, sinking in.

Cold rain shook away any remaining sleep left in him. Even against the lantern light from the cart, the darkness seemed to creep in. Just beyond the realm of Lyr’s sight, he could see downed trees and logs fighting to keep from sinking into the thick bog water. Moss and vines covered everything and an eerie green fog crawled over every surface. It seemed to swallow his feet up to the ankle.

Bok closed and locked the hatch behind them and started along a path made of wooden planks. The mud squelched up through the cracks with every step. The smell only got worse the more they moved but at least they weren’t in danger of sinking into the bog anymore.

The pathway led them between some strangely shaped trees. Gnarled and edgy, they seemed to have faces, complete with glowing eyes. Lyr may have even seen one of them move to get a better look at him. Just a trick of the light, he quietly insisted as he focused on Rose right in front of him.

The wooden pathway led them through the trees to a strange meadow barely wider than the house in the center. It wasn’t so much of house as it was a rundown shack that nature was trying to take back. Vines and clung from every inch of its wooden face. The only thing that kept the shack from looking like the swamp swallowed it came from the soft glow in windows.

 “Lyr,” Rose whispered. “I’m starting to get the feeling that Bok may have brought us here for malevolent intentions.”

“If there was ever a place he could do it and get away with it, this would be the place,” Lyr whispered back, his mind flooding with old tales from his childhood; the ones that involved children, a house in the woods and a witch eager to eat them up.

 “This is my home you speak ill of.” A cool voice whispered from behind.

Lyr jolted and bumped into Rose sending her flailing into the mud. The ginger cat snatched a displeased look at the calico as he scrambled to get her back on her feet. A tittering laugh seemed to cut through the cold and rain that drenched their bodies and their spirits.

The stranger wrapped themselves in a cloak made of spotted white feathers. It had a sloping V-shaped hood that blocked them from seeing their face. In their arms, they carried a bundle of firewood, no doubt something to welcome the new guests.

“Mayhaps I startled you?” The figure asked, her voice was like a silk shawl, soft, comforting, and luxurious. Something far beyond the disgusting place she dwells.

“You did,” Lyr said, trying to wipe the mud off of Rose’s rear but only made it smear worse.

“Hopefully you learned your lesson about being rude, kid.” Bok chided as he opened the door into the shack.

The stranger laughed again before beckoning them in with a sweep of her hand. Bok held the door open for her as she disappeared inside the warm glow that filtered out of the door. Rose chewed her bottom lip in disgust at her wet clothes as she slowly sloughed in. Lyr stayed close to her and Bok brought up the rear, locking the door behind them.

Lyr was beside himself at first. He teetered on the edge of a small flight of stairs that lead into a larger cabin that he expected. It had been constructed into the ground under the swamp, an amazing design he’d never seen before.

“Please take your boots off.” The figure in the robe spoke sweetly.

Lyr did as he was told before walking down the stairs. The first thing he noticed was a small fireplace complete with cooking pot built directly into the wall to his right. A large washing basin filled with clean water sat in front of it among what appeared to be the rest of a kitchen. It had a round wooden table with stools. Another wooden basin sat atop a smaller table. A washboard hung on the wall next to a set of old iron cookware. A squat cupboard pushed against the wall sat next to it. The top of it was cluttered with various unlabeled bottles and jars.

The main room branching out from the kitchen looked like a living area. A small bed pushed against the far wall next to an old dresser. Ancient books lined the top of it being held in place by a pair of carved wooden bookends; one a crow, the other an owl. Across from the bed, leaning against the wall stood a worn lute next to a stool carved from a tree stump. An old painting canvas with a broken foot leaned against the wall right next to it. A half-finished painting of an owl pinned to it.

As Lyr and Rose took in their surroundings, the figure settled the armful of wood down next to the fire before haphazardly tossing a few logs onto the embers. There was a calm and graceful way the stranger moved. Every action, precise and non-threatening; she moved like royalty.

“Your arrival was earlier than I predicted.” She spoke as she stood.

The figure pulled her hood back to reveal a gaunt yet beautiful face. She had not a trace of fur on her milky white skin. Her large ears weighted down heavily by her intricate jewelry. A golden tiara with a sapphire stone rested against her smooth brow. Her long broad muzzle and angular face reminded them of the woman they’d seen before: Krom’s mother. Even her blue eyes glowed with a strange magic, but unlike the crow witch, this woman showed no malevolence.

“I was about to take a bath,” She spoke, her voice was soothing. “But I see that my guests may need on more than I.”

“That’s mighty big of you, Nalka.” Bok chuckled. “I’m sure these crazy kids need it.”

 “My home has always been a haven for weary travelers.” She smiled warmly, as her cloak slipped free to reveal she wore nothing underneath. “That’s how I ended up with his worthless hide.” She gestured to the stumpy cat, a playful smile came to her lips.

At first glance, her body appeared to be thin and fail, but Lyr knew there was more to it than that. He could almost feel her power radiating from her body. There were so many piercing adorning her body, golden trinkets that shimmered in the firelight and jingled a soft song with every step she took.

Lyr quickly averted his gaze, feeling awkward to be gawping at the naked stranger. Rose turned away too, her cheeks flushed with a surprised blush.

“Worthless now and always will be, my lady.” Bok blushed and puffed his chest out in spite of the Nalka’s naked form.

“And yet, I always enjoy your company. I guess that makes me just a worthless.”

“Never.”

Nalka tittered before turning her attention to the younger cats that were beside themselves with embarrassment. “The naked form is nothing to shy away from, children. We all come into the world as such.”

Rose straightened up and cleared her throat. “I apologize. I never meant any offense.”

“Which is good, since none was taken,” Nalka smiled and bowed respectfully. “ I must say, such poise and grace, Princess Roslynda.”

The ginger cat gasped and covered her mouth. “But how-”

Nalka’s cool blue gaze moved from the princess to Lyr. “You will find that I know a great many things.”

Lyr’s back tensed up as he tucked his hands behind his back. A threatening spike found it’s way into his tone. “Then you have us at a disadvantage.”

“Lyr!” Rose hissed.

Nalka picked up on his standoffish tone but her smile lingered. “Advantages are for subterfuge and battlefields, young knight. As you can see, I’m naked and all my secrets are laid bare before you. Can you say the same, Lyr?”

Lyr’s resolve crumbled as he swallowed hard. “My apologies, ma’am.”

“None needed and none taken. You’ve been through a lot recently and as the bodyguard to the princess; I’d expect you to be leery of my intentions.” Nalka looked at Bok, who moved up the stairs to make his escape. “But that’s neither here nor there. _None_ of you are leaving tonight in this weather so my house is open to you all.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Rose curtsied.

“Please, call me Nalka.”

“Strip down and place your soiled clothes in the wash basin, I’ll attend to them in the morning.” Nalka knelt next to her bed and pulled out a folding wooden divider that had seen better days.

“For some privacy,” She said more to herself than to anyone as she set it up in front of the tub before addressing Rose. “You may have the first bath.”

“Thank you, Nalka.”

“Unfortunately, I only have the one bed so you may sleep on the floor. There are blankets in the bottom drawer of the dresser to bundle up with. I’m sorry I can’t offer you more.” The white woman turned her attention to the fire, giving it a poking with a metal rod.

Rose stepped behind the divider and started to undress. Even with the divider, Bok turned his back to her respectfully. Lyr stood stark, lingering on the words that she’d said. It caused his heart to tremble in his chest. He swallowed hard and stepped towards Nalka, surprised to find she was taller than him up close.

“I apologize for my behavior.” He whispered softly, wringing his hands in front of him.

A smile pushed to the woman’s lips as she looked at him from the corner of her large eyes. “I know you’re an earnest lad and you mean to only fill the world with good. But remember, you cannot fight every fight with a sword and a brash behavior. Some fight requires others to help you through.”

“I know.”

“Do you, Lyr? I see now that you wage a battle inside that you will not win until you let her in.” Nalka touched her hand to his chest plate. “Trust in her. She’s stronger and far more loyal than you or this world deserves.”

Nalka nodded and turned away. Lyr watched as she crossed the room to sit on the stool. She took up her lute and began to tune it. A few plucks of the strings and she started to play a lulling melody. Bok moved to settle in next to her on the floor as she played. The whole scene seemed surreal after what had just transpired between them. Nalka’s gaze lingered on him, filling him with a cold tremble.

A warm hand took him and brought his gaze around to find Rose’s sweet face. She wore nothing more than her panties and undershirt now. An excited glow for her forthcoming bath filled her eyes. Still, she stopped long enough to spend a moment with him.

“That was a big thing you did, apologizing to her like that.” Her breath was warm against his cheek.

“I’m trying.” Lyr smiled.

“I know you are; we all are. Thank you for being here with me.” Rose leaned close to trace a peck on his lips.

The soft kiss sent a burning blush through his entire body. When she pulled away, he teetered on his feet as if he were still under the medicine’s control. He watched her longingly as she slipped out of her underwear and slowly climbed into the tub. The water threatened to spill over the edges. Lyr hunkered down on a stool next to the tub. He wanted to rest and listen to the music but he also wanted to be close to Rose, if she needed anything from him.

Lyr had seen Nalka looking at him from the corner of his eyes. She just sat there playing and looking at him. He tried to ignore the chill it settled in his bones. Why was she looking at him? What did she want? It would have to stay a mystery until he worked up the courage to just ask her.


	11. A Moment of Semi-Privacy

Lyr slipped back inside the small cottage from his morning training session. An ache had settled in his bones from the long cart and he ached to get it worked out. When he went out, he hoped for fresh air and quiet time to think. Nothing about the morning air in the swamp could be considered refreshing. The stink from last night lingered well on into the next day. It might actually be worse after the rain stopped.

As for the quiet time, Lyr endured Bok and Nalka arguing about him leaving her to care for his guests alone. Nalka made some very good points, leaving Bok floundering to recover against her argument. After he finally agreed to stay and help out, they launched into a rather lewd playful banter about traveling perks. Lyr assumed they were joking but some of the more in-depth descriptions were no less distracting. All of that paired with the dull ache and limited movement of his hand made for a pretty poor training session.

It was nice to get back to some semblance of normalcy, Lyr thought on his way back in. With any luck, Rose would still be asleep. It would give him a chance at some privacy; maybe even a nice cool bath and some fresh clothes.

Once inside, he closed the door and stepped out of his boots. He started down the uneven stairs into the main room, slowing when he heard the gentle strum of Nalka’s lute. It wasn’t so much of a song as it was just random strumming that happened to play a song. Rose’s eyes were hollow and sad and her face looked gaunt in the low light from the sun filtering through the dirty skylight above.

Rose wore very little this morning; a simple white nightgown that hung loosely around her body from two thin straps over her shoulder. The fabric looked soft like the petals of the flower that shared her name. She was beautiful but seemed wilted and sad from everything that had happened. Seeing her that way threatened to tear him apart.

“Are you going to be alright?” Lyr asked.

Lyr already knew the answer to the question but didn’t know any other way to open her up to communication. His words caused her to hit a sour note that stopped the music for a second. The calico slowly rolled up his sleeve passed the elbow as he watched her work through his words. 

“Someday, I suppose.” She punctuated her words with another soft strum.

Lyr reached into his pouch and pulled out a small jar of viscous white liquid and a syringe that looked very well taken care of. Rose watched him curiously. She’d never been in his quarters when he took his daily supplements before. A prickle moved up the back of his neck under her gaze as he worked. The needle screwed onto the device easily before he dipped it into the liquid. He pulled the plunger back almost an inch, just like he always did.

“What’s that?” Rose asked.

“It’s a supplement; I’ve taken it every other day since I was eight,” Lyr said through gritted teeth as he gave himself the shot.

“What does it do?”

“Keeps me from dying,” Lyr snickered as he unscrewed the needle and put it back into the jar of antiseptic solution he got it from.

“That’s a terrible joke to make.” Rose eyebrows furrowed sharply.

She was right, Lyr thought as he quickly gathered everything up and put it back into his pouch. He turned to look at her and guilt seeped into Lyr’s heart. After everything they've been through the last few days, that type of joke was the last thing they needed.

 “I know things are hard-” Lyr moved over to her, pressing a hand to her shoulder.

She jolted away and giggled. “Your hand is freezing.”

“I’m sorry.” Lyr chuckled and pulled his hand, surprised that she wasn’t angrier.

That surprise only deepened when she caught his hand and pressed it to her cheek with both hands. Lyr curled his fingers up under her jaw. Beneath the soft fur, he could feel the linger vibration of her purring. It was followed by a shy swallow. A smile graced his lips as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

“It’s going to be okay.” He whispered, his warm breath made her ear twitch.

“I know. It’s just hard right now.” Rose nuzzles his cheek. “God’s blood, Lyr; you smell terrible.” Her voice hitched on an unflattering giggle.

“You are a charmer.” Lyr snickered. “In all honesty, it smells worse out there, if you can believe it.”

“Oh, I believe it.” Rose got up from the stool and walked over to the bathing basin. “I’ll start you-”

Lukewarm water already filled the tub. A shimmering trace of scented oil glistened along the surface of the water. It smelled like lavender and honey. Lyr could see the disappointment on her face.

“It looks like someone already had you in their thoughts,” Rose said.

“It was past-me. I knew I’d want a bath after training, so I got things all set up.” Lyr could feel a warm heat filling his cheeks at the implying look in her eyes. “I thought you’d still be asleep when I got back in.”

“That’s smart of you to think ahead,” Rose giggled. “Now you can bathe with the company of your best friend.”

“I know, I’m just…” Lyr paused for a moment, his mind working a mile a minute. “Shy about things.”

“Oh,” Rose cocked her head in question, sadness filled her eyes. “Would you like me to leave?”

Lyr didn’t know how to respond. He’d never been very good at standing up to that look in her eyes. After everything they’d been through, he understood her need to be close to someone. Being alone during times like these, that’s when the sadness gets you.

“No, you can stay. But could you, maybe, put the divider up or sit with your back to me so I have some privacy?” Lyr whispered, there was a nervous tremble in his voice.

“Certainly,” Rose offered him a half smile.

Lyr turned his back to her and undid the straps at his shoulder. The crisscrossed tying motion he made with the leather straps, made it harder for anyone other than him to take off the chest plate. When the buckle fell away, Lyr felt the leather sheet at his back loosen. It allowed him to push the armor down over his hips so he could step out of it.

Rose didn’t bother with the divider; instead, she walked across the room to gather the stool and lute before setting them out next to the basin. Lyr could feel her eyes on him as he undid his belt. Rose reached around him, taking the heavy sheath from him. She leaned it against the wall next to the basin for him.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

Rose nodded. “I’m here to help.”

A hot blush filled his cheeks. He knew that she was telling the truth. Besides the time he was a kid, he’d never bathed with anyone in the room before. With a trembling hand, he untied the string at his waist and slipped out of his trousers, freezing when he saw Rose sweeping by out of the corner of his eyes. She covered her eyes with one hand, taking his pants with the other. Slowly she made her way to the small wooden basin on the table to soak his pants.

It should have surprised him that the willful princess would keep her word but to his knowledge, she’d never lied to him or broke a promise. He didn’t have the right words to thank her and somehow she knew it.

“You asked for privacy. That still doesn’t mean I can’t help you.” She teased.

Lyr finished undressing, handing the rest of his clothes to Rose, who waited patiently for them. Once she had them, she turned to shove them into the wash basin, while Lyr quickly climbed into the tub and settled in for a relaxing bath. Rose hurried past him and he watched as she pushed the stool closer to the bathing basin. She sat down and cradled the lute in her lap, leaning back against the tub.

“You don’t bathe much, do you?” There was a lilting tease in her voice as she ran her fingers along the strings.

Lyr blushed deeply at the comment. This time he could actually smell how bad it was. “It was hard to find a moment alone in the castle. Even harder to find one in the barracks where I trained. I guess I just got used to it. I apologize if it’s offensive.”

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed by that,” Rose whispered, finding it hard not to look back at him.

Rose’s words were kind. Lyr still felt embarrassed that she had to endure it. Solemnly he sighed and picked up the soft bristle brush in the basket next to the tub. There was some thick honey scented grease in a jar sitting on the lip of the tub. He started scrubbing himself, the more vigorously he did it, the more bubbles he made.

“Honey,” Rose whispered. “I love that smell. It reminds me of my father.”

“Alteir as well,” Lyr smirked.

“They must have had some strange accord when they were younger. Honey baths all around.” Rose’s laughter forced a poorly struck chord.

“Oh, no, it was nothing like that; at least, I don’t imagine there was.” Lyr laughed. “Alteir’s hobby was soap making. His fascination started as a way to keep wounds clean in the field but it just sort of grew on him.”

“That’s the sweetest thing I ever heard.” Rose giggled, hitting a lulling note carrying it through to a low tone. “I was wondering if that’s where our soap came from.”

“I’d imagine so. Alteir made so much of it.” Lyr worked on scrubbing between his toes with the brush flinching as it tickled.

Rose continued to play a song that sounded both foreign and familiar at the same time. The lulling tone soothed Lyr to his soul. It gave him a fleeting moment to remember the man he called father. If he were still alive, there may still be a chance to rescue him but how? Rose’s voice cut through his silent musings, they were thick with tears.

“I have so many good memories of my mother but so few memories of my father. I can’t even remember one to comfort me right now.” Rose laid her head back between Lyr’s shoulders/

“I think it’s because your sadness is clouding your mind,” Lyr whispered. “It’s making it hard to find happiness in this haze.”

“Then how am I ever going to feel good again?” She whimpered.

“You will. It just may take a while.” Lyr focused on cleaning his private area. “Just remember, you’re stronger than you’ll ever give yourself credit for.”

“That’s a lie.”

“No, you saved my life back in the castle. Not once but twice. _You_ did that.” Lyr shifted to make sure everything was rinsed properly. “I froze in light of my duties and you pulled my ass out of the fire. If that’s not strength, then I don’t know what it is.”

“It wasn’t strength, Lyr.”

“It wasn’t?” He sounded skeptical.

“No,” Rose whispered, her fingers stopped playing the sad song. “It was fear that pushed me into saving you.”

Lyr turned and looked back at her from over his shoulder. “Fear?”

“Fear of losing you,” Rose whispered. “You’ve been the only semblance of a family I’ve had since my mother died. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

“I-”

The thought never finished before she wheeled around to kiss him. Her thin lips were soft but firm in the kiss and as she promised. She kept her eyes closed through the whole thing. Lyr wished he could say he did the same. He left his eyes open, entranced by the beautiful contours of her face. He studied each of the darker orange lines that ran along her ginger fur. Her long dark eyelashes lay lazily on her cheeks. Rose’s beauty and grace entrapped his heart and he was in love with her, had been for a long time. He had nothing to offer her and everyone would judge a lowly knight and a princess’s love. Though, at this moment, he got the feeling that she didn’t mind that at all.


	12. You Don't Have to Be Anything

Lyr opened the door for Rose, letting her step out first. Frigged air hung heavy in the bog this morning. The steam that normally lingered on the green water wasn’t there. Lyr and Rose could see the horrors lost to the filthy water plain as day. Rose covered her nose with her hand and teetered in shock at the smell. Lyr noticed that it smelled differently outside too. Not good, but not like a fresh wave of rotten garbage in the sun.

“No amount of warning is ever enough.” She laughed, fanning her face.

“What do you mean? This is some high-quality fresh air we’re talking about here.” Lyr joined in on the laughter.

“You are all crazy.” Bok stepped around his cart, chewing on a bit of jerky.

It was startling to see him up so early in the morning but not nearly as startling as seeing him shirtless. His pudgy body washed with a light cream colored fur. Lyr couldn’t help but consider the cat’s newfound attractiveness in spite of his toady looking face.

“What brings you out here so early, children?” He smacked his lips noisily.

“Sparing practice,” Rose answered as she held aloft her quickly fashioned wooden sword.

“A princess? Sparring? That’s rich.” Bok straddled a downed log to watch the show.

“She’s really good, I’ll have you know.” Lyr barely missed defending her first attack do to the stumpy cat’s distraction.

“Against a knight with a lame hand, I’d do well too.”

Lyr now remembered the real reason behind Bok’s unattractiveness, his incessant chiding, and jabs.

“Oh, just forget about him,” Rose smirked. “Understanding is just another avenue our friend comes up short on.”

  “Ooh, if your skills with a blade are as quick as your wit, this’ll be a good show.” Bok finished the last of his jerky leaning on the log to watch.

Lyr laughed and did a quick flourish with his wooden blade. He fumbled it some when he passed it to his injured hand. The wrapped fingers didn’t seem to want to close fast enough. Just another something he’d have to suffer through, he supposed. If this were the worst injury he sustained on this little venture then he should consider himself lucky.

Rose didn’t seem too put off by his injuries either. She too did a graceful wide arching display that was more on point and elegant than Lyr’s even when both his hands weren’t wounded.

“Ooh, that’s right princess, put on a pretty show,” Bok chimed in. “The only thing different between a whore and a princess is the mountain of clothes. Lose some and this might be a show worth watching.”

 “Excuse me.” Rose fumbled her blade but caught it before it hit the ground. “Did you just…”

“Ignore him,” Lyr said, though he couldn’t ignore the small fire the stumpy cat’s comment ignited in his ear tips.

“Right.”

Lyr lunged at Rose and she parried easily enough, her feet knew exactly where to carry her to give her the advantage. A quick swing caught Lyr’s blade and he shoved her away. One…two…and a twirl, Rose readied for another attack. Even in the slick wet soil, she navigated it masterfully.

“You can dance if you want to, you can leave your serfs behind,” Bok sang and clapped in a teasing tone. “And if your serfs don’t dance, well then they don’t dance, you should behead them all.”

Rose did as Lyr suggested, she ignored him. But he could see her eyebrows pinching more and more with each word. She rushed an attack. Two slashes and a short jab, Lyr could hear the soft thunk of the wood and then the world spun. He turned hard and the princess’s jab banked harmlessly off his sword and armor. She sailed forward but managed to regain her footing before she got too close to the water. The move left her back open, showing him the moment of victory he needed but his concentration wavered against Bok’s teasing.

“Ooh, get her, Sir Knight. The princess is in a right nice position to earn her money the hard way, tonight.”

Lyr’s face went as red as his ears and he wheeled around to confront the stubby cat. He froze when he heard a deep throated groan from behind. The calico turned back in enough time to block a heavy overhead attack that would have decimated him in real combat. He nudged her blade to slip away and blocked another heavy swing. This time his foot slipped in the mud from the force of the attack. Rose fought so angrily and she meant to win no matter what.

Her swings were fast and starting to grow clumsy. Lyr blocked, parried, and danced his way out of danger but she just kept attacking. Finally, he managed a side step and could feel her boot catch on his. Down she went on one knee and Lyr turned to help her but she spun up onto her feet in the same second and charging at him.

“Hey princess, best be careful, your petticoat is getting dirty.” Bok’s spiked voice caught her off guard again.

“Time for diplomacy to end,” She growled and whipped around to tell him off once and for all.

Rose’s arms flailed out from the spin and her wooden sword hit something solidly. Lyr’s head snapped back and he let out a muffled cry before dropping his sword. He reached up and gripped the bridge of his nose with his bandaged hand. Blood seeped between his fingers. Rose dropped her sword and covered her mouth when she realized she hit Lyr.

“Oh my god, Lyr! Are you alright?”  Her voice rambled out questions and commands that went unanswered and unheeded. “Did I blind you? Let me see it.”

Instead, Lyr rocked back and forth on his feet for a long moment before forcing his eyes open to look at her. “What a great hit, you win.” His voice seemed slurred a bit.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you know? The princess is good at something other than trying on dresses and brushing her wavy locks.” Bok snickered and climbed down from the log before returning to his duties.

Rose stared at him admonishingly before taking Lyr in her arms. “Come on, let me get you inside.”

Lyr nodded but didn’t move his hand from his nose. Blood coursed down either side of his muzzle and dripped onto his chest plate. Rose got the door for him and helped him through.

Nalka looked up from her studies at the sound of them coming in. At the site of blood, she got to her feet. Her large eyes bent in concern but when Rose passed her a reassuring glance, Nalka didn’t interject. Instead, she helped by pushing a stool closer to the fire and gathered a few scraps of cloths to clean the wound.

Once Rose got him settled, she hurried over to get a bowl of lukewarm water from the pot on the stove. Nalka met her at the edge of the table with a small vial of cloudy liquid. Rose recognized it as salted alcohol. It would keep the wound clean and infection free. Rose nodded her appreciation and turned to tend to Lyr. They hadn’t spoken but seemed to understand each other perfectly. Lyr imagined they were having whole conversations with each other in their mind, though such thoughts were brought about by the haze the hit left in his head.

“You seem to have everything under control here,” Nalka whispered. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

“Thank you,” Rose almost choked on the lump in her throat.

Nalka left without another word, though she lingered a glance back at them before stepping outside. Rose didn’t notice; she focused on her task at hand. She dabbed one of the scraps of fabric in the water and reached up to take Lyr’s hand. She hissed sharply through her teeth at the sight of the cut. It wasn’t bad, just a small nick across the bridge of his nose but it bled a great deal because of its location. Lyr flinched at the feeling of the cloth against the wound but Rose quickly grabbed the smooth neck slope of his chest plate.

“How bad is it, Doc? Give it to me straight.” Lyr teased between winces.

“It’s-” Rose started crying.

The sudden breakdown put Lyr on edge. “No, no, it’s alright. It’s just a scratch.” His stammering quickly became a false laugh that seemed more patronizing than comforting.

“It’s not that,” Rose wept.

“It’s not?” Lyr seemed stunned.

“No, it’s all of this.” Rose dropped the cloth into the bowl angrily. “It’s this swamp, the journey with no end, you, Nalka, even Bok. I don’t… I don’t belong in this world. I’m just a stupid dainty princess in a great big world.”

“Rose.”

“No, I don’t know what I’m doing, where I’m going. I’m just lost. Maybe Bok is right about me. I should be locked in a tower somewhere to tend to my dresses and hair.” She let out a frustrated grunt and snatched up a kitchen knife from the table. “Who am I fooling?”

Before Lyr could stop her, Rose cut a fistful of her apricot hair from the side of her head, leaving a butchered mass sticking out. The brash movement left Lyr speechless for a moment.

When he finally did speak, his voice was soft. “No one. You’re not fooling anyone, Rose, because you don’t have to. You’re dainty, yes. You’re graceful and poised, yes. You’re a princess, yes. But that’s not all you are. I never thought that once since we met.”

“What am I then?”

“You’re something magnificent, someone that challenges me to be more than I am just in the hopes that you’ll notice me.” Lyr smiles and caressed her face.

Rose stared at him through tear-filled eyes. His eyes soft and inviting despite the blood trickling from the cut, tinging on his chest plate as it fell. Then he took a deep breath and sighed it out to help gain control of his own emotions. He slipped his fingers into hers.

“If that’s all this is, then just stop being a princess anymore.” Lyr sighed into a warm smile. “You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be. This is your world as much as it is anyone else’s. You can govern yourself.”

Rose tried to speak but Lyr held up a comforting hand to her cheek. “The monarchy will survive without you. They always do. There are contingency plans in place for if the worst happens.”

“But it’s selfish.”

“Sometimes it’s okay to be selfish, especially in light of everything that’s happened. Grab for that little shred of happiness that keeps you sane.” Lyr kissed the back of her hand, smearing blood on it.

“You speak as though you know from experience.” Rose sniffled and wiped the blood away with her thumb.

“I do.” Lyr left it at that.

A soft ‘ahem’ came from within the room. They turned, wide-eyed, to see Nalka standing quietly behind them. A sad look filled her eyes as she looked between them. They didn’t have to wonder how much she’d seen, they could guess by the look on her face.

“Your hair,” She whispered soulfully as she picked up the bundled off it from the floor. “Your hair will grow back in time. Wounds will all heal with care. But these feelings will plague you for a long time. The only way to deal with them is to embrace them.”

“Nalka?”

“Rose, young Lyr may be brash and foolish but on this, he’s correct. If you don’t want to be a princess just because someone told you to be one, then don’t. If Lyr wants to be who he is, then nothing can change that as long as you’re willing to embrace it.” Her words were delivered in a soothing voice that calmed the pounding of Rose’s chest.

“It will be hard.” Rose sighed.

“As all things are. But we will survive and thrive, together.” Lyr pushed his forehead against hers.

“Promise?” Rose pushed back.

“I stake my heart on it.”

After a long moment of silence, Nalka took over the situation. She kept them entertained with silly stories from her youth while treating the wound on Lyr’s nose. He wore a bright white bandage on the bridge of his nose now. It stood as a mark to remind him how dangerous Rose could be when she’s angry, not that a reminder would be needed.

Nalka then worked to cut Rose’s hair to match. The damage was severe, and it left her with a simply shaped mess of wavy hair. It wasn’t unbecoming at all. She still looked beautiful, but less like a princess, which she secretly enjoyed.


	13. An Ill Wind Blows

Lyr woke to a silent urging from deep inside. It felt as if his bladder were going to explode at any second if he didn’t take care of it immediately. After a little coercion, he managed to free himself from underneath Rose, who’d somehow managed to pile on top of him while he slept. Since he still wore his chest plate even to bed, the reason she cuddled so close escaped him. It couldn’t be comfortable pressed against the cold metal all night.

Nighttime or early morning, it didn’t matter. The only light in the room came from the smoldering embers in the fireplace. For a second, Lyr glanced in the direction of the bucket behind the thin slatted divider and shook his head. It wouldn’t be enough privacy for him if someone woke up. Begrudgingly, he climbed the stairs and stepped down into the cold leather of his boots.

Quietly, he slipped out the door, letting it settle behind him. It was oddly cold out tonight and everything seemed calm. The warm smoky smell of a campfire drew his gaze. A haunting green glow came from the fire pit in the center of the front yard; it silhouetted a figure that Lyr couldn’t quite make out. Judging by the thin, gaunt form, he managed to deduce that it was Nalka and she was cooking something strange in a black cauldron simmering on the coals.

“Evening, Lyr.” She spoke without turning.

“Evening.”

Lyr watched as she dropped a single flower with blue petals into the bubbling purple liquid. It hissed and sank almost immediately.

“Please, tend to your business and then join me at the fire, young one.” Her soft tone vibrated on her purr in her throat.

Odd, Lyr thought. She must find some comfort in this strange craft so early in the morning. Lyr didn’t dwell on it longer than he had to. He still needed to pee, an invitation he couldn’t ignore any longer. Lyr slipped behind a rough patch of bushes to tend to his business.

He stepped out a moment later, adjusting his belt before coming to kneel next to Nalka at the fire. She slowly stirred the strange brew. It bubbled and churned at the attention of the wooden spoon. She tossed a single acorn into the mix and it fizzled up, threatening to boil over the edges, then it settled down again.

“It’s finally ready.” Nalka’s voice sounded tired, though it couldn’t dim her smile.

“What is it?”

“It’s a gift, for you and Rose.” A fond look filled her large eyes. “It’s a very special elixir.”

“Like a potion?” Lyr cocked an eyebrow. “But why?”

“Very much so, but this one is very beneficial.” Nalka began. “As to why, it will allow you to see what the masked man is up to. You’ve managed to elude him thus far. Something in the wind tells me that he may darken out doorstep any day now. It’s best to not be caught unawares.”

“And if that happens?”

“Then we will do what we must.” Nalka nodded confidently.

With a not-so-frail hand, she scooped up a spoonful of the liquid and filled a glass decanter with it. In the same fluid motion, she lifted it to her lips to blow on it before passing it to Lyr.

The glass warmed his hand. When he smelled it, it smelled of nutty bread with a heavy yeast undertone, almost alcoholic. Lyr lifted it to his lips and paused for a second to reflect on what might happen if he drank it.

“I would not bring you into my house and care for you only to poison you now, young knight.” Nalka looked at him out of the corner of her eye and smirked.

“That’s not it.” His voice whistled over the top of the open bottle.

“It won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”

As if she read his mind and easily soothed his worry away at the same instant, he tipped the bottle back and the warm liquid coated his tongue and slowly slipped down his throat. She was right. It didn’t hurt, but she’d never mentioned how frightening the feeling of a million tiny fingers crawling through his body all at once and grabbing him. They pulled him down into a dark descent. His eyes blacked out and he fell back against the cold hard ground, out cold to the world. 

***

The light of the small fire in the center of the chamber barely kept the darkness at bay. Large ragged teeth hung down from the ceiling, while other teeth climbed up from the floor. In the distance, like an old ticking clock, drops of water could be heard patting the stone. Rain drummed from just beyond the opening of the cave.

A figure strode from the darkness in the back. His broad chest and wide shoulders were familiar silhouetted against the light. Another familiar figure, small and gaunt, moved to embrace him. 

“We wasted so much time at the safe house.” The larger figure’s voice muffled against his mask.

“It was a simple miscalculation, my sweet.” His mother whispered feigned sincerity in his ear. “The scholar was a bit more resourceful than we thought.”

“I just want them dead so badly.”

For an instant, it sounded as if the masked man frustration verged on the point of tears. That ended abruptly with a firm slap from his mother across the side of his head. Then another slap came and another, two more in quick succession. The last one hit hard enough to stagger the larger man.

“Forgive me, mother.”

“No forgiveness to those who are weak, Krom.” His mother hissed. “You’re not your father.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Something moaned in the shadows near to them. The sound, a hollow and spine-chilling cry for help. It shifted and slumped against the wall with the rattling of chains.

His mother wheeled around at the shadow and hissed. “Shut up!”

Krom’s body tensed as he gripped her shoulder. “Mother, don’t.”

Angrily, she slapped his hand away. “This is just more weakness! No wonder those brats slipped your grasp. Are you sure you’ll know what to do with them if you catch them?”

“I know-”

“I love a good family squabble as much as I love a hostile kingdom takeover, but I grow weary of this banter.” Lord Du Mont stepped in from outside.

The rain soaked his dark wavy hair to his skull and his fur flowed in strange ribbons along his face. Behind him, clad all in black with purple trim, gathered a group of his men. There were so many of them, that they filled the mouth of the cave to the brim before spilling out into the rain.

“You will man your post or suffer for it.” His mother hissed, her body bristled with anger.

“With all due respect, Mordreth, I think our little alliance is at an end. I agreed to help you get close to Alteir and the King in return for his kingdom. I carried out that part of the bargain.” Du Mont gripped the hilt of his sword. “I even agreed to go to the safe house and help you hunt down a pair of children. That didn’t go as planned, but I think I’ve more than lived up to my part of the bargain.”

“You assume too much.” Krom’s mother, Mordreth pursed her lips.

“Do I? I suppose I do. It doesn’t change the fact that we’re done here.” Du Mont chuckled and looked back over his shoulder to his men. “Come men; let’s go back to the castle to enjoy our hard work.”

A spattering of cheers rose from his men but it didn’t last long. In a flash, Krom drew his sword and stabbed Du Mont through the stomach. The blade went in at and upward angle, stabbing the guard in the face behind him. With the same speed, he withdrew his blade and cut down the next two guards in line. It would have made sense if his muscles slow him down but they did nothing to hamper his speed. By the time the third guard fell, the others were dropping their weapons and surrendering.

Krom panted and let out a vicious roar. Some of the men toppled over the ones behind them in an attempt to escape. Others fell to their knees, covering their heads with their hands. Some just stood there and watched as Du Mont slowly choked to death on his blood as he writhed in pain.

“Fight for me, or die. Those are your options.” Krom looked at the remaining men. “I’m not a dignitary. I’m not a lord. I care nothing for kingdoms or land, nor gold or accolades. All that I want is Lyr and Roslynda dead and I will kill anyone and everyone who stands in my way. Do you understand?”

***

Lyr snapped awake with a gasp. He thrashed and panted as if he’d just surfaced from beneath the water. When he tried to cry out, it only caught in his throat like a heavy swallow of air. Nalka grabbed and pulled him into her lap. The warmth of her flesh against his sweat soaked fur was soothing. She ran a motherly hand along his muzzle and kissed him between his eyebrows.

“Easy, child, I have you.”

 “I saw-”

“I know; I saw it too. I saw everything.” Nalka whispered into the crest of his ear. “Trouble comes for you like a raging storm and I fear there is little you can do to prepare for it.”

“What are we going to do?”

“A solution will present itself in time; such is the fabric of this world. We don’t know how many days will pass before the storm hits. Until then, just try to live your life as you would otherwise.” Nalka's words rang true. Though, after what Lyr saw, he doubted it would be that easy.

Images fluttered through his mind like a flock of migrating birds. The drumming of his heart in his chest made him anxious. How could he tell Rose? He didn’t even entirely know how he’d explain what he saw to her, especially when things were starting to seem alright. Now, things threatened to derail again at any moment.

“Easing your mind and your spirit will help find your rest, young man.” Nalka took his hand and kissed the back of it. “I know it will be hard, but take solace in your friends. You’re intertwined in the fabric of this world. They will need you in the coming days as you will need them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lyr said politely, his voice heavy with sadness.

“Take this potion and hold it dear. There will be so many things in the future that remain unknown to us. This may be a vital tool that helps us through the haze.” Nalka held out a corked decanter filled with the same purple liquid.

“How will I know when to use it?”

“Trust me, you’ll know.” She offered him a warm smile, though her eyes reflected his fear. “Try to get some sleep, dear.”

Lyr didn’t say anything. He got up from the ground and went back inside. The moment he closed the door, fear of loneliness gripped him. Slowly he slumped down on the steps, burying his face in his hands and started to cry.

Just then he heard the hollow snap of a match and a warm glow filled the room. Rose stood between the bathing basin and the table with a startled look on her face. Lyr was quick to wipe his eyes to hide the fact that he was crying.

Rose touched her chest and exhaled sharply. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” Lyr forced a smile.

“You should be ashamed of yourself.” A smirk found its way to her lips. “I give you one kiss and now you think you can sneak up in the shadows and watch me bathe like a lecherous old Deacon.”

“I never meant to assume I deserved such a precious honor.” Lyr forced a laugh trying to cover up the fact he was upset about something.

Lyr was so preoccupied with the visions he had that he hadn’t noticed she was naked and preparing to get into the tub, until right now.

Rose offered a shaky laugh as she pushed her bobbed hair back from her face. “You can’t say things like that while I’m mad at you.”

The calico smile faded away as he stared back at her. They were at a silent impasse, each of them had something on their mind, yet they were too respectful to pry but at the same time, they were too caring to let it go.

“Couldn’t sleep?” She asked.

“No, I had to pee.” Lyr swallowed hard. “You?”

“I missed you too much to go back to sleep.” Rose chewed her bottom lip, testing his threshold but for what, Lyr couldn’t tell.

“Well, I’m here now.” Lyr felt guilty for keeping her awake.

“I’m not tired anymore.” A coy look came to her eyes as she slowly climbed into the tub. The candlelight cast alluring shadows across her naked form. “Join me for a bath, please?”

Lyr stepped closer and it pricked an excited gasp in Rose’s throat. The young calico looked beautiful bathed in the orange firelight. The sight stole her breath away and she reached for him to keep her balance.

His arms were strong as he wrapped them around her and she kissed his lips. Something about her radiated desperation and it caused a tremble to ripple through him. His fingers caressed her soft fur, resting just above her backside. Her whole body shivered against him. It was the first time any male had ever been this close to her before. Waves of excitement and fright raged inside of her. Lyr was stronger than he looked and dangerous with his deceivingly frail and feminine face.

When they parted their kiss, he noticed her looking at him and his yellow eyes narrowed. They weren’t just playing anymore. The teasing and taunting had blossomed into something more. He could see it in her eyes and it frightened him. It frightened her too but for a different reason. She knew him well enough to know that he was hiding something from her.

 “Lyr?”

He didn’t answer. He just stood there holding her close, wishing they could go back to the part where they were kissing. For that brief moment, she managed to replace all of his concerns with new ones that were much nicer to focus on.

“Is something the matter?” It wasn’t the question she wanted to ask but knew it was a way to get him to start talking.

“Yeah.”

His immediate response shocked her. Usually, it took a few tries to pry something out of him. Lyr took a piece of her clothes and handed it to her. It didn’t take her long to realize it wasn’t her sleeping shirt. In fact, Lyr managed to grab a full set of traveling clothes and now he gathered up her training armor. Something was wrong.

“We’re leaving, tonight,” Lyr whispered softly.

“Why?” Rose took the shirt and pulled it down over her head.

The cold of the fabric sent a shiver down her spine as it settled around. Quickly, she stepped out of the basin and pulled her panties on. With each second that passed and didn’t answer, she grew more frightened.

“Lyr, you need to talk to me.” Rose snapped, she sounded angrier than Lyr had ever heard her before.

Then it dawned on him. He wasn’t protecting her by keeping the secrets. He was being cruel to her, by not trusting her to be able to cope with the new problems that came along. If they were truly going to set off into the wild together, that would have to change. He and Rose would only have each other, so they would have to ultimately trust each other or they would fail.

“Rose, there’s just not enough time to tell you everything on my mind.” Lyr turned to her; she could see the weight of what he had to say crushing him.

It only spurred her to get dressed quicker. She tied the string on her loose fitting trousers. Lyr stood by ready to help her with her leather armor. Then he felt her hand grip the neck of his chest plate.

“There’s never enough time, Lyr. That’s why we have to embrace each other, trust each other with everything. I don’t…I don’t want the type of relationship my father and mother had. I want one with no secrets.” Rose studied his eyes for a long moment.

"Relationship?”

“I love you, Lyr.” She spoke plainly. “If this, if we’re meant to be something more, I want it to be the best it can be. I want no secrets, no lies. And trust- mountains of trust.”

“There is something I must tell you but we have to leave. There’s trouble-” Lyr’s thought was cut short by a loud bang from outside and the sound of Bok’s voice calling out.

“Krom’s here!” Rose whispered, her eyes trembled with fear.

Lyr fumbled her armor and she caught it easily enough. “Then we will go to face him.” She pulled her armor on and quickly pulled the straps to tighten it.

Whatever was going to happen, he wasn’t ready for it and it may cost him the lives of his friends. Cost him the life of the one he loved.


	14. "It Should Have Been Mine"

When Lyr and Rose rushed out into the stink of the swamp, everything burned. No one would have guessed how quickly the fire would spread and consume the swamp after a few dry days. Lyr first saw the cauldron tipped over into the coals, it crackled and spit angrily. Then he saw Nalka stand stoic among the orange blaze around her as two soldiers came for her. Two more soldiers stumbled around noisily trying to catch Bok who was amazingly fast and agile for being stumpy. They saw just beyond the outskirts a glowing line of torches from the guards forming a perimeter as they slowly closing in on them. They crouched down behind the woodpile to try and find an escape route.

Through the firelight, Krom strode with his shoulders back and head straight. His mask shimmered in the orange glow. As always, the large crow sat atop his shoulder. Just behind him shambled a large figure, slumped at the shoulders. He wore a bag on his head and a chain around his neck. It didn’t take long for Lyr to see the crest of the master tactician on his chest. Though he wore chains, Alteir still lived; a glimmer of hope filled the young knight’s chest.

He only needed to kill Krom and his mother. Thanks to the visions, he knew the other knights held no loyalty to him, only fear. They would lay down their arms or run, the moment he ceased to live. Now all he had to do was carry it out.

Bok growled and hammered one of the guards with a thick bit of wood before darting away. He scaled his carriage in the next instant and slapping the reigns hard. The ox groaned, trying to show that he didn’t appreciate the lashing by running away. He pulled the cart along with him which Bok wanted all along.

“Stop him!” Krom barked.

Several of the soldiers converged on the cart but were simply mowed down. Bok spared a final look back, catching a glimpse of Lyr and Rose before he rode away. He disappeared through a gap in the fiery fence made by the soldiers and was gone. Lyr felt a sick feeling sinking into his stomach. In the end, Bok showed his true colors to be similar to the dandelions that grow in the field. They left to face this demon alone, no not alone, Lyr reminded himself. They still had each other.

Krom growled and cut down the soldiers Bok knocked down. “Failures, you’re all failures. It’s not to be tolerated.”

“You’re still a spoiled brat, Krom, suffering from tantrums and breaking your toys.” Nalka chided, her words brought a cold chill to the world.

Krom turned and pointed his blood soaked sword at her. “Silence, witch.”

“That’s Aunty Witch, you ungrateful troglodyte.” Nalka spat back.

The crow on Krom’s shoulder took flight for only the briefest of seconds before turning into a whirlwind of purple and black smoke. Where the bird flew in, Mordreth stepped out the other side, her purple eyes glowing fiercely as she glared at Nalka.

“You will not speak to my son that way, sister.” She hissed.

Rose gasped and Lyr quickly covered her mouth. A nearby guard gave a once over before shrugging and going back to watch the show. Lyr could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The ginger cat nodded and pressed her lips to his hand in appreciation for the save.

“Son? You’ve raised him to be a brute, and a monstrous one at that.” Nalka showed no sign of fear; she stood firm as an oak tree in the wind.

“Abandoned by his father, abused by the world, what would you expect him to become?” Mordreth gritted her teeth.

“Lies and excuses, many children in this land are abandoned. Some die, some turn to a life of crime, but others rise above and become pillars that can be seen by all who are downtrodden.” Nalka folded her hands at her back. “You’re the reason he’s the way he is. You stole his father, you took his seed, and when he managed to slip your little cage, you put all of your hate, rage, and feelings of abandonment into your son. Mayhaps he is the brute and you’re the monster.”

“Shut up!” Mordreth let out a furious shriek.

She tossed a hand out and a cold blue bolt sparked on her fingertips and died out just as quickly. Mordreth’s eyes opened wide, her mouth hung slacked with surprise.

“A magic ward?”

“Yes, It’s built into the very fabrics of this place.” Nalka smiled smugly. “This is my home. There will be no black magic allowed.”

“Does it stop blades, though?” Krom jetted forward, his blade pierced the Nalka’s stomach.

“No!” Lyr was over the woodpile; his sword drawn.

The closest guard fell victim to his attack and then Lyr stopped cold for what happened next. He saw something unexpected. Something that he wished he’d seen before he made such a rash decision. The blade pierced Nalka’s stomach but before any damage was done, she exploded into a whirlwind of white smoke. A large owl broke through and headed skyward, free from the danger. Mordreth changed again and tore off after her.

Krom spared only a glance at the owl before turning to glare at Lyr. “You!” He dropped the chain that held Alteir and started across the yard.

“Yeah, me, come get some,” Lyr chided.

Lyr raised his sword and charged the larger man. The first strike was quick, sending a shower of sparks onto the ground. Krom bided his time, blocking everything that Lyr threw at him. It wasn’t unlike a flea trying to attack a dog. Soon he’d be tired and that would be the end of it.

Another flash caught the firelight and Krom was sent on the defensive. Rose attacked with as much ferocity as she had the day before. The fire returned to her eyes and she meant to finish this. The guards moved in, but Krom’s growls put them at bay.

A parry, a block, another block, and a dodge, it was the most defensive style Lyr had ever seen. For such a threatening man, Krom made no attempt to attack, he merely defended. He was toying with them as if he knew something they didn’t. It only took another second until Lyr realized what it was.

Rose's blade managed to get through and the strike was good. It sent a spatter of blood on the soft dirt and Krom winced away and growled.

“Goddammit,” He swore, and ended the fight outright.

A quick punch through Lyr’s defenses, hit his chest plate hard enough that the vibrations shook the air from his lungs. Then a pommel strike to the chin sent his world spinning. Rose saw another opening and lunged for it, only to receive a firm backhand across the face. The fight was over as simple as that. Guards raced in to get ahold Rose and Lyr, bringing them to before Krom.

“Sloppy,” Krom pushed up the bottom of his mask and spat. “If my father trained you, he did a piss-poor job.”

“What?” Lyr felt the air leave his lungs as if he were punched again.

Krom reached up and undid the buckle at the back of his head, letting the mask fall away. Krom had the same amber eyes as Alteir; Lyr would know them at a glance. His fangs showed under his upper lip, just like Alteir’s. Even the shape of his face favored his father more than his mother. Krom was Alteir’s son.

“My father…captured and tortured my mother, when he was doing maneuvers in the Southlands. He kept her holed up in a cave and raped her repeatedly.” Krom spoke slowly, solemnly. It sounded as if Alteir were speaking through his voice. “When he was done with her, he left her chained to the wall like an animal. She nearly died with me in her belly.”

“Lies,” Lyr yelled.

Krom grabbed Lyr by the hair and jerked hard. “Shut your filthy mouth!”

Lyr cringed; the sudden manic change in Krom caused a tremble to ripple through his entire body.

“I want you to know the truth before I do unspeakable things to you, Lyr.” Krom’s tongue rolled seductively at the mention of his name.

“Lyr?” Rose whispered.

“You’re next…little God-sister.” Krom grabbed her chin and squeezed. “Oh yes, I know who you are. I know who you both are. Thanks to my mother’s potions, she allowed me to look into your lives. I spent every day watching my father coddle you, love you, treat you like his children, while he left me to abandon and ruin at the hands of my mother.”

“You’re a liar!” Rose spit in his face.

Krom slapped her again, this time fresh blood ran from her lip but she refused to call out. Instead, she glared at him as if to see deeply into his soul. There was a fire inside of her that Krom would have to snuff out before she would let him kill her. Krom saw it too; he knew he’d have to break them just as he broke his father.

“Get me my tools.” He hissed, forcing his fingers into her mouth to look at her teeth. “Beautiful teeth, sister. They’ll make a fine trophy.”

Lyr pulled free from the guards, snatched up his sword, and swung hard. But Krom was still too fast for him. He grabbed Lyr’s wrist and nearly picked him up from the ground in the same motion. There was a chiding smile on his lips as examined Lyr.

“I’ll have to find a better way to break you.” A salacious tone seeped into his voice.

The playful look was replaced, as anger seeped in. Krom’s eyes found the blade in Lyr’s hand. He was quick to snatch it away with his other hand.

“This is my father’s sword?” He whispered; his voice barely a mutter.

He turned the blade over and looked at the beautiful leaf texture worked into the metal. The woven and braided metal of the cross guard was masterfully done. It was a lot thinner than he’d remembered from his visions. It was lighter, too, fashioned for a much smaller man. Alteir had customized his prized blade for Lyr…his false son.

“My father’s sword!” Krom yelled in Lyr’s face. “It should have been mine! Your fairytale life should have mine!”

Krom’s eyebrows bent in a crazed sadness. “Your soul…is mine.”

It all happened so fast that Rose couldn’t comprehend it the seconds before, during, or after but when it registered, it shook the very foundation of her life. Krom dropped Lyr and let loose a deep throated growl through his gritted teeth. It was followed by a vicious cross body strike. The screeching sound of metal as it tore through Lyr’s chest plate. It sent a spray of blood into the air. The force of the upward strike sent Lyr’s small body into the air and then down into the dirt on his back. When Rose called for him, he didn’t respond.

***

Everything was a blur, a haze in the rising heat from the fire. The muggy air worked in conjunction to constrict her lungs. Had Rose really seen what she saw? It played over and over in her mind in a split second. The sword, Lyr’s sword, the gift from Alteir, tore clean through his chest plate as if it were nothing. As the arch pulled away, a spray of blood followed. Lyr didn’t scream, didn’t make a sound. He just fell to the dirt and hasn’t moved since.

“Lyr!” Rose screamed, her hand finding a dagger on the guard to her left.

Instinct ordered her on. The blade found its way through the chink at his neck. It cut clean and the soldier gripped his throat as if it would help, it wouldn’t. Rose brought the blade across her body and slipped it through the eye slit of the faceguard on the soldier to her right. It was a precision shot she’d never make again and hopefully, she would never have too.

Adrenaline pushed Rose to grip one of the other soldier’s swords and pull it free from its sheath. The surprise attack would fail, she had no misconception that she could defeat Krom, but with any luck, he’d reunite Rose with her love very shortly.

Krom fumbled back a step at the surprisingly hard swing from the princess and she pushed her attack by bringing the heavy iron blade down on him. He blocked and parried so that his cross-guard ripped the blade from her hand. Rose lost her balance and let it pull her into a roll. She managed to escape Krom’s grasping hand but now he was swinging Lyr’s blade. It was a simple twist of luck or bad calculation. The lack of reach of the shorter blade would buy her a few seconds of precious life.

Krom struck her in the back with a glancing blow. It didn’t cut her but it did knock her to her knees and she stayed there. Her death was coming, there was no need to try and cheat it now.

Then something exploded close by. It rippled the entire swamp and shook the very earth. It was followed by another and then another. Hell was coming to the swamp and it threatened to swallow them all.

Krom teetered on his feet and fell to one knee. He whipped around to see who was attacking. He winced and covered his eyes as another bright flash filled the small meadow. That was when Rose heard it coming. The thundering of hooves on the soft soil, the ragged wheels of her ride to hell coming on strong. She simply rolled to the side, her head hitting the jagged plate of Lyr’s chest armor. Then she saw it, bright colors of a streaming wagon pass by as the wheel gobbled up Krom and spit him out.

“Goddammit! Get in!” Bok smacked his hand on the hard wood of the wagon, as he used a cigar to light the white string protruding from a potato.

“Bok!”

Bok chucked the potato at the ground next to a few soldiers and slipped down from his seat to round the wagon. The explosion popped so loud that all Rose could hear was a ringing in her ears. It threw dirt and mud all over her and Lyr.

When the stubby cat pulled open the back door he shot a look at Rose. “Well, move!”

He managed to grab a large wooden pole from his wagon, swinging it in enough time to catch an approaching soldier in the face. He let the force behind the staff swing bring it around. He bent over to let it twirl around his back before he caught it and held it ready to defend Rose as she climbed aboard.

“Wow, you’re-”

“Move your ass, princess; we’ll have time to talk later.” Bok stabbed the staff into another soldier’s chest, pushing him down into the water. The weight of his armor pulled him under to a watery grave.

“What about Lyr? We can’t leave him.” Rose tried as hard as she could to pull Lyr up.

“Leave him. He’s dead.”

“Not dead, you fool. Just hurt.” Lyr moaned.

Rose gasped as tears filled her eyes. “You’re alive?”

“My sword…get my sword.” Lyr coughed a spatter of blood onto his chest.

Bok suddenly appeared at his side. He worked to unhitch the ravaged metal chest plate off before lifting him with all of his might. Lyr was surprised to find that Bok had a lot it. Apparently, there was a great many things they didn’t know about Bok, they would have to address that later.

“There’s no time for this. We have to go now.” Bok grunted and carried him into the back of the carriage. “Rose, get in the driver’s seat.”

“I don’t know how to drive a carriage.” Rose was already climbing the wagon.

“You don’t have to. Baviere knows where to go. Just give him two quick slaps every time he slows down.” And that was the end of it. Bok disappeared inside the wagon and pulled the hatch closed.

Rose did as she was told. She took the worn leather reigns and gave them two quick slaps. The ox, Baviere, let out a deep chested moo and tore free, kicking up mud and dirt as he went. Bok was right-the beast turned and moved where he had to so he could make it through the mud. At one point, he just obliterated a soldier in his path and kept on going. Rose hung on for dear life and silently hoped that Lyr would be alright.


	15. My Name is Lyr

Bok used his tinder-lighter to light the lanterns, all the while fighting to keep his footing. Lyr lay back against the coffee bags breathing raggedly. Bok was quick to grab his medical back and kneel down to get a better look at everything. The cut tore through his shirt and up along his cheek, barely missing his eye. Bok chewed at his bottom lip. The wounds were bad, but he’d live, they would heal. The scars, though, they’d be with him forever.

The stubby cat unrolled his medical bag and got to work. “Stay calm!”

“Wait, there’s-”

“Shut up and stay calm.” Bok worked to free Lyr’s belt, tossing it aside. “Okay, I’m going to have you drink three strange brews in the next three minutes one’s blue, one’s Green, and the last one is yellow, in that order.”

“Bok, listen to me!” Lyr panted. “I have…a secret.”

Bok sneered and shook his head out of frustration. He pulled three thin vials from the kit and nearly dropped them when he saw what Lyr had to show him. Beneath his ragged shirt, hung loose bindings made of bandages. It had been cut clean in Krom’s attack. The wound traveled upward at a slight angle from Lyr’s navel between a pair of meager sized breasts, stopping at his collar bone. Lyr secret was unmistakable but still left Bok shaking his head in confusion.

“You’re a woman?”

“No, I’m a man. I’m taking supplements. They’re in my pouch. I inject them every other day.” Lyr panted heavily as if a heavy weight had been lifted.

“Supplements?” Bok grabbed the pouch still attached to Lyr’s belt and pulled out several small vials and a rolled up piece of parchment. “Carnreata root, dried bone marrow, semen from a bull... That’s more testosterone than the entire Scalarian army, but it should work, clever.”

“It’s my mother’s recipe. She was so supportive when I told her I wanted to be like my brothers.” Lyr laid his head back, tears filling his eyes.

“Lyra?” Bok tapped the paper where a scrawled name appeared.

“That was the last time my mother called me by my birth name.” Lyr started to weep.

“No, no, none of that,” Bok urged as he rifled through his bag again. “I need you to be strong. If not for you, then do it for the princess.”

“Oh god, Rose,” Lyr started crying harder.

“She’s fine, she’s driving the cart. Now shut up.” Bok put the yellow potion back and handed him an orange one instead.

“She doesn’t know.”

“What?” Bok almost dropped his large jar of antiseptic.

A serious look came to the calico’s face. “She doesn’t know, and you can’t tell her.”

“For better or for worse, kid, I can’t lie, and I won’t. So when you pull through this-”

“If,” Lyr interrupted.

“No, when you pull through this. You’re going to tell her everything. She deserves that much.” Bok stuck a thick black string through a new and pristine looking needle. “Now, blue potion, drink it.”

Lyr tipped back the bottle of the ill tasting liquid and coughed, wincing as he did. “I don’t want her to hate me; I can’t risk not having her in my life.”

“If you feel so strongly about it, then you should’ve trusted her enough to cope with the truth.” Bok glared at the boy admonishingly.

Lyr hesitated for a moment and nodded. “You’re right.”

“I know I’m right. Now, take the green one now.” Bok pulled out a bolt of clean linen and started cutting off a few scraps. “You’re going to get very sleepy soon, just leave everything to me.”

Lyr drained the liquid from the vial and it was putridly sweet to the point that his cheeks frizzed. “Alright.”

Bok paused for a moment and looked at him. “When was the last time you took your supplements?”

“This morning, I won’t need them again until the day after tomorrow.”

Lyr felt a wave of warmth fill his body. It was hard to discern if the feeling was from the potions or the simple gesture of kindness from Bok. Either way, he liked it. The feeling immediately disappeared, however, when Bok poured cold water from the waterskin down his body. Lyr gasped and panted at the feeling of it flowing through the wound.

“Why did you come back?” Lyr asked, trying to keep his mind of the sharp pain.

“Nalka told me to,” Bok smirked. “Witch caught up with me at the bridge.”

“She’s alive?”

“And pissed. Now drink the last potion and relax. I have your back.” Bok laid a full sheet of the cloth on the wound, watching it soak up the blood and water.

Lyr did as he was told; he drank the last vial, luckily it tasted like nothing. Bok was right. Sleep was coming. Darkness took him before he even had a chance to drain the vial. He was accepted into the loving arms of a dark, drug-induced slumber.

***

The cart swayed gently back and forth like a rocking chair, a nice change from the frantic hustle that went on through the night and all morning long. Lyr managed some very deep sleep during the escape but now that the journey was smooth, he found it difficult to close his eyes. Instead, he found his mind drifting to a place he’s been trying to avoid. Soon, Rose would come back already knowing the truth, or come back deserving to know the truth. Either way, Lyr feared what would come.

The cart slid to a halt and he heard someone slip down from the seat. It felt like Lyr was playing a game of hide and seek with his brothers but he hadn’t hidden all that well. The feeling of inevitability being caught crept up on him closer and closer.

Then the back door opened, letting in a bright flash of sunlight and a cool spring breeze. The scent of the swamp still lingered on the wood of the cart but the air was significantly sweeter now that they were free from it. Lyr took a deep breath, feeling the sting of his stitches as they pulled taut against the skin. The pain reliever was still in full swing but it didn’t dull everything, not in the slightest.

“Thank you, Bok, for everything.” Rose’s sweet voice could be heard from just beyond the door frame.

“Yeah, yeah, shush with that and go get some shut eye. It’s going to be another two days and I need you ready to protect me if the baddies come back.” Bok chuckled; it was followed by the sound of a cheek kiss.

“You’ll always have my sword, your stumpiness.” Rose giggled and stepped inside.

Bok closed the hatch behind her and locked it. To Lyr, the sound of the tumblers in the lock sounded like a death sentence. Rose looked gaunt in the low light of the lantern. It was clear she’d not slept in over a day and it wasn’t far off. But there was something in her eyes that told Lyr, that sleep still wasn’t close enough.

“Bok told me.”

Lyr wanted to get up but the pain kept him from moving. “I can explain-”

“Shut up!” She screamed and the furrow of her eyebrows told Lyr that it would be in his best interest to let her finish.

Rose hissed a breath between her sharp teeth and knelt down next to him. Lyr reached for her hand and she slapped it away harshly. The jostling vibrated his entire body causing him to wince. The ginger cat moved her hand to push open the tattered, bloody shirt that covered Lyr’s chest. Two mounded breasts were wrapped tightly with a fresh bandage. A light crimson spot ran up the center. What happened next startled Lyr, he’d not expected her to grip one of them firmly enough to hurt. Tears welled up in Rose’s eyes and raced down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” Lyr whispered.

“For what?” Rose’s voice choked out.

“For lying to you.”

Another unexpected thing happened, something that literately rocked Lyr’s world. Rose slapped him as hard as she could across the side of his face that wasn’t bandaged. It caused a deep throb in the back of his head and in the stitched wound on the other side of his face.

“I’m not crying because you lied to me, Lyr.” She grabbed either side of his muzzle and pulled it close so their eyes met. “It’s because you didn’t trust me enough to accept you for who you are!”

 “You told me that I can be whatever I wanted to. How can you expect me to believe in that if you don’t?” Rose’s voice teetered on the edge of incoherency.

“I-” Lyr felt the lingering lump in this throat grow firmer. Thankfully, Rose wouldn’t let him speak.

“I love you, Lyr, I didn’t lie when I said it. I would love you if you were a goblin, a troll, a dog. You’re Lyr and that’s all that matters to me.”

“I love you, too. I was just so scared that that would change.”

“Then you’re stupid,” Rose spoke harshly. “But I can forgive that because boys are often stupid.”

Lyr was so stunned by her words that he started chuckling but it soon broke down into a sob so hard that his chest felt as though it would rip apart. Hearing her acceptance lifted a heavy weight from his heart. He hadn’t even felt that good when his parents accepted him.

Rose shook her head and pulled him into her bosom. She rested her chin between his ears. “I didn’t mean to call you stupid.” She murmured with a sniffle before giggling.

“No, you’re right. I’m such a fool.” Lyr sobbed.

“And I forgive you.” Rose kissed the side of his head before looking into his eyes. “But if you really want to be with me, you going to have to trust me. I won’t be so forgiving next time. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good.” She whispered.

Rose nodded and pushed her lips tightly to his, letting the loving kiss linger. When she pulled away, she whipped his eyes with her thumbs and gave him a smile. Lyr tried to smile back but only managed to break down again.

Rose settled down next to him and cuddled tightly. She ran her fingers through his hair while singing a soft lullaby to him. She just let him cry it out because that’s what he needed and she knew him well enough to know that. It didn’t take long for him to settle down and enjoy being close to her.

When she was sure he was calm, she started asking him all about it and he answered every question she had honestly. Some of them were awkward and hard to answer without a blush but Lyr managed to work through them. Rose was grateful to finally know the whole truth. It didn’t take long for her to run out of questions and settle in with her head against his chest.

“I’m glad you don’t have to wear that chest armor anymore.” She yawned and tucked her hands into the waistband of his trousers. “It was so uncomfortable to cuddle with you when you wore it.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore.” Lyr kissed the top of her head. “It didn’t protect me very well anyway. You found a way through.”

Rose missed the last part as she drifted into a deep sleep. Already snoring before Lyr could finish his thought. “And for that, I’m grateful.”

Lyr sighed softly and closed his eyes to join her in a blissful nap, a blissfully guiltless nap.


	16. Coming Home to You

Lyr woke to the first rays of the sun peeking through the slats in the wooden blinds. It laid a shaft across the lightweight blanket he lay under. It was the first time in almost two days he woke up to the warm rays. The soft cotton sheets felt like a cloud shifting under him, filling him with the wonder of whether he still drifted through a dreamed or not.

He tried to move but his body ached from head to toe. Muscles were cramped and the sharp pain in his chest spiked every time he tried to move. Eventually, he gave up and lay there, trapped in an otherwise blissful world to just stare at the ceiling of an otherwise foreign room.

There was always a lingering sensation that told him he was in strange place but the state of his mind made it near impossible to process, at least not until now. Where the hell was he? It seemed like a completely different dimension from where he’d been three days ago, hunkered in the back of a dark cart. Alone and stinking of antiseptic and fever sweats against a pile of coffee bean sacks.

Now he was lying in bed that rivaled the ones in the castle. Furniture made of an odd knobby wood, polished to a rich golden tan. An armoire stood against the far wall, fashioned of the same wood but decorated with warm colors of aqua and sunburst orange. The same color scheme seemed to run throughout the room. Even the blinds were made of the same wood and painted with the oceanic colors. This time they made a decorative design of water-bound creatures breaching the surface of the ocean. A wicker door sat next to it with a small inkling of light filtering through the tiny gaps in the mesh. It beckoned him in a very peculiar and very exciting way.

A large wooden mask, easily the size of a shield, hung on the wall across from him. Its dark hollow round eyes and sharp V-shaped mouth bore the only darkness on the brightly colored thing. The rest of it was painted up with white, orange, and teal. Hundreds of tassels decorated with brightly colored glass beads swayed in the light breeze that emanated from nowhere.

“I don’t know whether to fear you or laugh at you,” Lyr said in a voice foreign to him. It sounded scratched and scarred and much louder than he intended.

“Lord Jester Uthulo is a friend to me and my people. He keeps humor and song in the home and bad fortune at bay.” A warm voice called from nearby. “He’s valiantly watched over you for two days.”

“Two days?” Lyr’s spoke, his voice spiked in shock as he turned to see the source of the voice.

A very tall and very curvy female cat stood next to the bed. Her entire body was pear-shaped from her narrow shoulders to her wide birthing hips. She wore a loose fitting sash of purple and teal that barely covered her body. Her cream colored fur carried accents of gray deep within the roots. A long slender tail slithered behind her. It was black as night and matched her long glove like markings on her arms. Even her ears were peaked in black. But the marking that drew Lyr into her existence was the black diamond-shaped mark on her angular face. A pair of deep blue eyes peered out from the blackness and seemed to sharpen with her warm smile. Whoever she was, she was beautiful.

“Yes,” Her voice was as deep and warm like a summer breeze. “Two days. We were starting to fear the worst.”

“How did I get here? And where exactly is here? And who are you?”

“Easy, boy,” She smiled warmly. “You’ll wear yourself out again going on like that. All answers will come in due time.”

She sat down on the bed slowly, to keep from jostling him. Lyr tensed as she pulled a pair of shears from the end table drawer but made no move to defend himself. She pulled the blankets down to his waist and slowly cut through the bandages binding his chest.

When it fell open a fresh wave of stinging pain filled his body. The weight of his breasts, however slight, was enough to tug at the stitches running up his chest. Lyr tensed, a hiss caught in his throat. The pain watered his eyes but he fought to keep control. When it finally subsided, Lyr enjoyed the cool air against the wound.

The fur around the cut had been shaved away while he slept. Now he could see the entirety of it. The black stitching against the folded flesh almost disappeared among the bruising that went the width of one breast to the other. It was bad, the worst wound he’d ever had but not the worst he’d ever seen.

“It looks to be healing well. It only bled a little at the top and bottom. Still, a ways off and you’ll need to take it easy, but I think the worst is over.” She smiled at him. Her bedside manner was soothing, she’d done this before and it showed.

“May I at least have your name?” Lyr didn’t want to sound demanding but he was at a great disadvantage of this beautiful woman caring for him.

“I’ll leave the bandages off for a few hours to let it air out. I’ll rub you down with a healing salve right now and come back later to clean the wound and rewrap it.” He could tell she was playing coy. “I’m Buma, by the way. Welcome to mine and my husband’s home.”

“Your husband?” Lyr realized the implication of the question before it even left his lips.

A heat rushed to his cheeks, making him feel faint and she noticed. He could tell by the way she giggled and covered her face in a teasing fashion.

“Easy, Sir Knight, we should avoid a scandal.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Lyr wanted to get up, he wanted to run away but he wouldn’t make it past the door in his weakened state.

“You better not; my husband is a big strong brute of a man. He’d best you easily.” She chided him and Lyr realized immediately that it was all a farce.

“Bok…your husband is Bok.”

Buma giggled and nodded. “Very perceptive, how did you figure it out?”

“You have the exact same sense of humor.” Lyr snickered as he felt a wave of relief wash through him.

“You’re right; he knew you would figure it out.” Buma nodded. “Rose figured it out as well. You and Rose are very clever.”

“Rose?” The mere mention of her name sent Lyr’s heart aflutter.

“Yes,” As if she heard him calling for her, she sidled through the door with a warm smile. “Oh, Lyr, you’re awake.”

When Lyr saw her, she’d never looked so lovely before. Her hair was freshly washed and spiked out around her head. A lime green sash hung from her shoulder, across her chest and was ornamentally tied at her waist. It looked so freeing, so comfortable to wear and it looked beautiful on her. Lyr eyes lingered on Rose for a long time, it made her very aware of herself and she liked that he was staring.

“I told you he would be fine.” Buma stood, she was nearly two feet taller than Rose and responded to the height difference by tussled her hair as if she were a child.

Rose didn’t mind, she smiled happily and hurried to sit at Lyr’s side. “It’s so good to see you, Lyr.”

“It’s good to see you too.” Lyr pulled her into a hug, ignoring the pain in his chest. The feeling of her body so close warmed his heart.

“I was going to rub this on his wound, but you seem more than capable of handling it,” Buma said.

She produced a jar of cream colored salve from the nightstand drawer. Rose leaned back and looked at it. Her mouth pursed tightly with concern. Buma just giggled and set it down next to her.

“Just take it slow and be gentle.”

Rose nodded. “Okay.”

“That’s a good girl. I have other things to tend to this morning, so I’ll leave you two alone. Just call if you need anything.” Buma started for the door.

“Buma?” Lyr called to her and she peeked back into the room with a mothering smile. “Thank you for everything.”

“You’re very welcome, Sir Knight.” With that, she left, closing the door behind her.

Rose was overcome with emotion as she kissed Lyr’s lips passionately, almost too rough for Lyr’s own comfort but he knew she needed it. It had been two days since they’d spoken since they interacted together. They were in a strange place after all and the only connection to the life they had.

Rose’s kisses grew gentle, just lingers of her warm lips caressing his. Her tongue teased but was too shy to pursue anything further. Lyr cradled her cheek in his hand and shifted his lips to deepen the kiss but the muscles in his stomach made it hard to push away from the pillows. When he grunted at a sharp ripple in his stomach, Rose pulled away with a concerned look on her face.

“Did I hurt you?”

Lyr shook his head and smiled as he licked her taste from his lips. His blush lingered but had grown deeper since they started kissing. The shaft of light through the blinds hit the orange fur of her face and it ignited. It was so bright that Lyr had to squint against its brilliance. It gave her such an angelic glow. She was so wholly beautiful that it took his breath away.

Rose was pleased that she could make the knight blush so. Her fingers instinctively kneaded his thigh through the blankets as he traced another kiss against his wounded cheek.

“I love you,” Lyr whispered suddenly.

It brought a lingering sigh from Rose who shifted to look into his eyes. “I love you too.”

They sat in silence just enjoying each other’s company. Rose was gentle as she worked the salve along the wound. The fresh smell of coconut and vanilla covered up the medicinal scent that caused his chest to heat up slightly.

The discomfort was the last thing on his mind right now. Instead, he focused on her graceful hands caressing his body. Even in spite of the pain, it caused a tingle deep down inside, one he would very rarely indulge in, even on his best day. When Rose finished, she wiped her hands on a rag Buma was nice enough to leave in the drawer of the end table.

“Thank you for that,” Lyr whispered, his face was flushed warm with a blush.

“Anytime,” Rose noticed the blush and was quick to figure out why but was polite enough not to mention. Besides, if she did, she’d feel inclined to mention her own lingering feelings deep down inside.

After a long moment of sharing glances, Rose got up from the bed and helped Lyr to his feet. Every movement he made hurt but having Rose there as a crutch made it easier for him to endure. She helped him over to the slatted divider so he could use the bathroom; it was the first time in his life, he didn’t mind sitting down to pee. While he rested on the wooden stool, Rose poured him a bowl of crisp water and started dabbing his face and the back of his neck, getting him all cleaned up.

“I feel like a new man.” Lyr sighed, as she helped him to his feet again.

“You look good.” Rose smiled.

 “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not.” Rose giggled and fished out a long multicolored sash hanging in the armoire. “You look beautiful.”

“Except for this,” Lyr playfully motioned to the scar on his chest, with a feigned laugh.

Rose knew that he was trying to play off his insecurity about the scar. The way he looked at it in the mirror, she knew it bothered him. She couldn’t deny that it was a horrible scar but it wasn’t ugly and it didn’t make Lyr ugly either. It was only cosmetic and easy to look past when it came to whether or not Lyr survived. He was alive, and that’s all that mattered.

Rose stayed quiet for a long moment as she folded the sash once over and wrapped it around his waist, tying it in a comfortable fashion.

“Especially for that,” She finally whispered.

You don’t-”

“I do, leave it at that.” Rose gave him a stern smirk.

Lyr nodded and let the subject drop, which Rose was grateful for.

“Let’s get you some fresh air,” Rose whispered at the crest of his ear as she took his hand.

Rose helped Lyr to the mysterious door watched as Rose unbarred it. She pulled him out into the waking world. The sun was so bright that he was forced to close his eyes. He was almost blinded by the orange light that tried to force its way through his eyelids. The world was alive with the sound of birds; they were all foreign to him. Crashing waves could be heard beyond the laughter of children and boisterous tones of a familiar voice just in front of him. As he teetered, Rose held him close and rested her head on his shoulder.

When Lyr finally worked up the courage to open his eyes, he saw a paradise stretched before him. Beautiful houses set on stilts above the white sands. Beyond that were a bustling harbor and merchant town. The docks were lined with small fishing boats as more were coming back from the sea with a bounty of whatever they caught.

Lyr could hear wood being chopped nearby. A partial house sat close. Lyr could see Buma hammering a few nails into the wooden frame. Standing behind her was another woman that looked exactly like her but shorter. She was holding her rounded belly.

Children laughed from nearby, almost underneath where Lyr and Rose stood. Bok gave chase and a flood of children poured out from under the deck. They were all slender and more than a few were almost taller than him. His children, Lyr assumed as he chuckled. There was at least a dozen of them. When they heard him, they stopped and looked up. Bok followed their gaze; a giant smile coming to his lips.

“Sir Knight, it’s good to see you up and about.” There was a genuinely happy tone in his voice, something warm and inviting. “Welcome to Basi, a paradise away from it all.”

The corny line would have faltered in any other light but now that Lyr saw Basi, he realized that it was the first and only time that words couldn’t do a place justice. Someone would have to see it to believe it. It was a paradise.

“Bok, children, please get Sir Knight something to eat and drink. He needs lots of citrus, lots of juice.” Buma called out over her loud hammering.

Lyr heard a few of the kids muttering, ‘he’ and ‘him’ before Bok hushed them. “Just like Aunty Merna, now go.”

There was a collective ‘oh’ from the children before they tore off to do what their mother told them to do. Lyr was perplexed by Bok’s comment but was a bit out of sorts to question further. Instead, he let Rose lead him to a chair to help him settle in.

“This place is a paradise.” Lyr sighed warmly.

Rose knelt down beside him on the wood of porch and kissed his thigh before resting her head there. “It is now that you’re awake.”

Lyr felt a lump catch his words leaving him speechless. The only thing he could do was run his fingers through her hair and keep from crying. Rose let out a soft moan at his touch and it warmed him all the way through. For a brief moment, all of his troubles fled him. He was at peace and it was the most wonderful feeling he’d ever felt. A voice on the edge of his mind nagged him that it wouldn’t last, but he just kept on enjoying the moment anyway. He would need it if he wanted to survive.


	17. These Gifts

Just a light jostle, that’s all it took to pull Lyr from his shallow sleep. He blinked his eyes a few times and looked down to see a small hand rested on his shoulder. He followed it up a small arm to a narrow shoulder and then to the largest pair of soulful green eyes, he’d ever seen. Ama, Bok’s second to youngest daughter, was known as the Runner. Whenever a job required distances and speed, she was the one they asked to do it.

Ama was almost six years old and still very small for age, at least as far as her height was concerned. Her lower half was stocky and muscular like her mother. When Lyr met her for the first time, Bok commented that in a pool flooded with Buma’s dominate traits, Ama managed to pull a few of his from the gene pool.

Ama looked into Lyr’s eyes, fully aware that he was awake; she poked him again. This time, it was harder than the last.

Lyr creased his eyebrows and shrugged. “I’m looking right at you, you know?”

“Then you should have said something,” Ana smirked and poked him yet again. “No use in letting your fall back asleep, now.”

Lyr looked off in contemplation before he answered. “I suppose so.”

“As well as you should.” Ama giggled and punctuated her words with another poke. “Ma and Da want you down on the beach as soon as you’re ready.”

“Is everything okay?” Rose mumbled, her face pressed to Lyr’s shoulder.

“Yeah, they just want to see you.”

Then, for some strange reason, Ama tore away and out through the porch door, before anyone could ask her any more questions. Lyr heard her vault over the porch railing and she was gone, leaving the door swinging open so a cool morning breeze could get in.

“Strange children,”

Lyr moaned and struggled to get up. Even after a week of rest, his wound still hurt when he moved. At least, it wasn’t as painful as before.

“They love you, you know?”

Rose propped herself up on her elbow, a shaft of the gray early morning light fell across her. The weather was warm and humid in the early evenings, so she’d taken to sleeping naked. The feel of her fur against his was unspeakably pleasant. As she sat up, the blanket fell lazily over one of her wide hips. The slope of her side cast a teasing shadow over her figure. Lyr struggled to breathe as he looked at her. She was beautiful, even as she fought to smooth her frazzled hair when she caught him looking.

“What?” She asked but knew his answer.

“Just…”

Lyr didn’t have to say. He knew that she knew, that’s how they worked. Instead of clouding the moment with words, he leaned close and kissed her. She fought to get up on all fours so he didn’t have to strain so hard. Their kisses were still clumsy and terrible but Lyr loved them all the same. Their stumbling tongues flicked one another and Rose often suckled too hard at his bottom lip. But it still left him wanting more. They could both tell, it was a masterpiece in progress. With enough practice, and boy did they love to practice, they’d soon master it.

Rose pulled away and pushed her forehead to his chin, receiving a kiss. “Best not keep them waiting.”

As much as he would like to lay in bed all day kissing and cuddling with Rose, she was right and Lyr hated it. He got up and carefully stretched while Rose sauntered over to the dresser to pour a bowl of cool water. They took turns having a hand bathe in the small bowl, just enough to freshen up from the sweaty night. Rose smeared some coconut oil under her armpits and pulled on her melon-colored sash. The creamy green color looked nice with her fur.

Lyr followed her lead with the coconut oil before folding his sash the way Rose taught him. She giggled and swept up behind him, taking the fabric. Masterfully, she wrapped it around him, cinching it so it wouldn’t fall off when he moved. Lyr could usually dress himself but with the cultural clothes in Basi, he was at a loss. Besides, he loved it when Rose doted on him.

“Are you ready?” Rose whispered.

“Do I have too?”

“I’m afraid so. Buma made it special for you and it would be rude not to.” Rose smiled and lifted something akin to a girdle but was made from the same fabric as the sashes.

Lyr nodded and lifted his arms as she pulled the fabric taut across his chest. It compressed his breasts firmly into place so all that was left were barely noticeable mounds. They worked to shield his chest wound from the fabric while keeping them out of sight and out of the way. The main downside was it took Lyr’s breath away for a good long moment. Rose finished tightening it in place before helping Lyr sit at the edge of the bed.

“Remember, labored breathing, sweetie.” She said motherly as she kissed the side of his head.

Rose stayed close and caressed circles into the fur at the back of his neck. Lyr closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. In and out, the problem lasted a frustrating minute or two but it was such relief when it passed. He was sure it wouldn’t be as big a problem once the wound healed.

When the feeling passed, Lyr got to his feet and looked at himself in the polished metal mirror. The piece of rainbow fabric was a foot wide across his chest. He could still see a lot of the scar but at least the bruising and swelling had gone down a great deal. When he turned to the side, a slight prickle of emotion took over. His chest was almost entirely flat. That, mixed with the natural muscles he built up in his stomach, back and shoulder and the added assistance of his supplements, he looked like a boy.

“You’re such a handsome man,” Rose pushed her forehead against his shoulder blades, giving them a light kiss.”

“Not nearly as beautiful as you are, but thanks.”

“How many times are we going to have this argument, Lyr?” Rose asked, she picked up the small pouch on the dresser top and opened it up.

“Until we can agree that you’re the fairest of them all.” Lyr chuckled, watching as she loaded the syringe with his supplement treatment.

Rose made a point to master how to measure it and even administer it. The needle went into the inside of his bicep easily and she pushed the plunger down. There was something intimate about the way she conducted herself, professional, yet excited that Lyr shared this experience with her. When she was done with the shot, she dropped the needle back in the antiseptic vial and put everything back in the pouch.

“Tha-” Lyr started to say but Rose kissed him instead, just a peck that she followed with a smile.

“It’s my pleasure.”

Rose took his hand as they walked out the porch door and down the stairs to the cool sand. They slipped their sandals on and gave them a quick tightening before hurrying down the beach.

They could see Bok standing outside of the forge, tossing a heavy wooden ball into the ocean. Several of his flock climbed over each other for a chance to swim out into the ocean to get it. He followed it up with encouraging cheers and teasing jeers. From an outside standpoint, it would seem cruel but Lyr had gotten to know the children over the past week and knew they loved it.

“Kia! No elbowing your brothers!”

Bok pointed at the tallest girl in the bunch, she was the second oldest and the most competitive. One summer out from being allowed to travel with her Da, she so eagerly informed Lyr once every day, when she brought him food. Fourteen years old and already very aware of what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, very admirable. There was a fire inside of her that reminded him of Rose.

“Sorry, Da,” She sassed and tossed the ball even further into the ocean to spite him.

When Lyr and Rose reached the edge of the water, Buma stepped out from the forge. Her fur was sweat soaked flat to her body. She carried a hammer in one hand and a sword in the other. The sword had been freshly polished and sharpened.

It was shorter than a knight sword but the perfect length for a fencer style fighter, which Lyr was. The blade curved at the end, which made it appear more like a cleaver than an actual sword. A lunge from that sword would be deadly but a slash from it would be even deadlier. The hilt wasn’t weighed down by a heavy cross guard either; instead, it was just a polished diamond-shaped piece of metal that was barely wide enough to protect fingers.

“What do you think?” Buma held up the sword, giving it a quick swing before rolling the perfectly weighted blade in her hand.

Her blade acrobatics gave Lyr pause. Buma manipulated the blade as if it were second nature to her. It twirled around her fingers without her ever touching the sharp part. Even when she tossed it up, she caught it without effort or risk of dropping the hammer. Just as surprising, Bok slapped the bottom of her hand playfully, sending the sword into the air. He continued to juggle the sword in her stead before letting the pommel rest on his palm, the sword straight up and perfectly balanced.

“Very nice, dear. A better swordmaster and blacksmith there never was.” He chuckled at her as she bent down to take the sword back, giving him a kiss on the lips while she was down there.

“Thank you, love.” She said tiredly.

“Ma, Da,” Kia’s voice was deeper than her young features let on. “You have company.”

A cloud of squealing and squirming children rushed over and engulfed Rose and Lyr, in a seawater-soaked entourage. There were almost two dozen hands pawing them and pulling at them with excitement. Lyr and Rose both laughed at their ‘goodmornings’ to the kids. Bok scooped up the ball and quickly tossed it to the low tide.

“Alright, alright, give them space. Fetch the ball.” Bok was nearly knocked over by the herd of children that rushed for the incoming tide.

“Good morning to you.” Buma moved up and planted a kiss on Rose’s cheek and then one for Lyr.

She looked exhausted as if she’d not slept all night. Even with her sweat and soot caked fur, she was still a very beautiful woman. A very deadly one at that, Lyr remembered the swordplay she displayed.

“Yes, good morning, children.” Bok looked at Lyr. “Wow, my wife did a good job on your boulder holders.”

“Bok!” Buma cuffed him in the back of the head. “And yes, I seemed to have gotten your size perfectly.”

“You did, thank you so much,” Lyr smirked, a little shy about Bok’s comment.

“Well, don’t rest on your laurels just yet, the gifts keep coming.” Bok continued his teasing fit.

“Can I do it, Da?” Kia cut in, excitedly.

“I already told you, you could, Kia.” Buma laughed and the young girl hurried into the forge to get something.

“While she’s doing that,” Bok picked up a pair of sheaths; one actually had a sword in it. “These are for you.”

Lyr took the one with the sword in it, noticing this one had a very light and ornamental cross guard to it. It looked like rose stems, complete with thorns. Bok was quick to take the sword back from him.

“Not yours, hers.” He pushed the sword into Rose’s hands, hence the thorny vines.

“You made this?” Rose looked at Buma.

“The blade, yes. My oldest daughter, Cara, did the intricate work on the hilt.” Buma explained as she held out the other sword, hilt first, to Lyr.

“And I made the sheaths.” Bok pointed at the beautiful etchings burned into the leather. Dolphins, they were called, as Lyr recently learn, danced along the waves, it was completed with a myriad of beaded tassels.

“Beautiful.” Rose said, drawing her sword. It was surprising light, much lighter than the iron swords she was used too.

“They’re made of lighter steel brought over from the lands across the sea, where my father’s from,” Buma explained. “It’s harder to work with but if you know how, you can fold it hundreds of times to make an indestructible blade.”

“Where did you learn how to do this?” Lyr asked, studying the reflective pearl set in the hilt.

“I’ve got it,” Kia grunted as she came out from the forge.

On either shoulder, she carried leather chest armor. Both were treated and designed with the same care. There was ornament sword burned into one of them. It bore beaded tassels of orange, white, and blue. While the other had a rose burned into it, this one was stained pink and white, with matching beaded tassels. They were beautiful.

“My husband made these for you; I did the beading and the etchings.” Buma wiped her face on her sash and leaned to rest against the wall.

“Yeah, they’re not full sets of armor, just the chest and shoulders. But they’re designed to fit snugly and protect you against just about any blade.” Bok slapped Lyr on the hind end. “Lyr’s, yours is specifically made to hide the good lords unfortunate oversight.”

Lyr cocked his head and sighed. He’d never thought to refer to it as such but it seemed to work. The knight knelt down and gave Bok a big hug. The stumpy cat’s arms flailed for a second before he embraced back. Buma and Rose joined in on the grateful hug while Kia stared on awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck.

“When you’re done with…whatever it is you’re doing, can I tell them the next part?” The younger girl shuffled her feet in the sand.

“Yes,” Bok pushed Lyr away. “Yes, the next part.”

Lyr laughed and sat back on his heels. “There’s more?”

“Yeah, Nalka visited today.” Bok snickered.

“Nalka?”

“She’s been keeping watch for crows and Kroms.” Buma smirked. “She’s our guardian angel, so to speak.”

“Is she well? Can we see here?” Rose started asking questions; Bok covered her mouth with his hands.

“No more questions! She’s fine. No, you can’t talk to her right now and she’s asked us to train you.” Bok explained before removing his hand from her mouth.

“Da!” Kia grumbled.

“Well, sorry but she kept asking questions, you weren’t going get a word in edgewise.”

Rose ignored Bok’s comment before asking. “Train us?”

Rose’s reminded Lyr of his question from earlier that was ignored. “Where did you learn how to do all this stuff?”

“Oh gods, now he’s doing it.” Bok shook his head. “They never listen, just talk.”

“Calm down dear, we’ll make them listen.” Buma giggled and got to her feet. “For the next few days, you’ll train harder than you ever thought possible.”

“We’re talking full armor, metal swords, me, my wife, and my kids. You’re in for a world of hurt.” Bok chided.

“Oh man, I can’t wait. I hope I don’t cut you guys up too much.” Kia laughed maniacally.

“I don’t understand.” Lyr touched the wound on his chest.

“Alright, listen, before I was a lowly merchant, I was an adventurer. Not some namby-pamby one that looked in one cave once and found a rock that might be worth something.” Bok crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“No, he has sailed seas, searched ancient temples, and rescued fair damsels.” Buma rested her hand on the top of his head.

“Well, just one damsel, and really she saved me.” Bok laughed.

“I did,” Buma giggled. “You ever see a giant spider, kids? Very fast, very deadly, but if you can get underneath them, they’ll never see you coming.”

“But their carapaces make strong weapons and beautiful jewelry.” Kia added.

“That they do.” Bok nodded. “So, after breakfast and Buma’s nap, be prepared to train.”

“What about my wound?” Lyr asked.

“Do you think Krom will wait for you to get better?” Bok said coldly. “You’re in no risk of dying and the skin has healed enough that you don’t have to worry about it popping open stitches, so no excuses.”

Lyr nodded and cleared his throat. Bok was right, no more excuses. If they were going to defeat this villain, they’d have to get better at fighting. They both would and laying around in a bed soaking up paradise wouldn’t do that for them. If Nalka thought training would help then that’s what they would have to do. She was far wiser than him.


	18. Treasure These Moments

The sand is heavy and unyielding. It shifts underfoot, making the battle dance impossible. A quick whirl and the boot slides easy, down on one knee, defenseless, all that remains is a flash of a blade. Its block and again, then back on the feet for another jostle and a roll away. The sand, it gets everywhere, it smells and tastes earthy. Gritty to the point it cuts like a knife but soft enough to cradle a fall. It can blind an opponent, choke an attacker. It can change the entire field of war. That’s why wars waged in the sand have a definite winner: Those who dwell in it have learned to live with it. The sand is the key. 

***

Lyr woke up panting heavily. His chest rose and fell so hard that it ached, not from the wound, that hadn’t bothered him in days. No, his aches and pain came from the training. Every muscle spiked when he moved. Every joint ached. Even shifting to sit up seemed like a chore, but when he succeeded, it felt strange, like it was a grand victory or something. Bok and Buma had been honest and forthright about the training. Hours and hours passed in a flash and it had been brutal.

The first few days, Lyr and Rose dropped on the beach and fell asleep by dusk time. Kia was nice enough to watch over them while they slept in the cold sand. After that, the training got harder but the days got better. Lyr and Rose were learning how to expend their energy efficiently. If one pushed too far, the other was there to pull them back before it went too late.

They ate lean and drank heavy, ran so far, and fought so hard. The lessons they learned were many but the torture they endured physically, embedded those lessons in their minds. It left him permanently wanting. He felt a strange hunger deep in his belly; he’d never known before, a yearning he’d never dreamed possible. Something about the rigorous training had opened a consciousness inside of him.

‘The sand is the key’ Bok told them time and again, and he was right. That’s why his people strode when they walked because their legs were stronger than any horses, their backs firmer than any oxen. Everything they did seemed harder than any other people.

“Can’t sleep?” A warm whisper brought him around, painfully.

Rose lay next to him, hugging her pillow. It folded around her face so he could only see one eye in the low light of the dawn. She wore a beautiful smile t as their eyes met. She looked as tired as he felt. It left him wondering, did she feel the same pain he did? It was impossible to tell since she never complained, not once.

“Something like that,” he whispered as if any one of the children could hear them at any moment.

“Dreams about training, huh?” She smiled and crawled to him with a soft groan.

“You know me so well.” Lyr shifted around, propping a leg up on the edge of the bed.

Without a word, Rose was grateful to rest her head on his thigh with a lingering kiss at the sore muscles inside. Lyr flinched against the teasing tickle and caressed his fingers through her hair.

The kissing grew to deeper suckles and then a soft bite. Her sharp teeth teased the skin underneath the soft fur on the inside of his leg. Lyr sucked in a soft gasp of air and tensed up. Rose’s lips moved slowly upward until she felt Lyr’s fingers growing taut in her hair.

“I’d like to try again sometime.” Her warm breath ruffled the fur on the inside of his thigh.

“Huh?”

Lyr feigned ignorance. Though, his mind had already gone back to the night before last when they tried, for their first time. He was tired and his body hurt but she hungered for something food couldn’t sate. Lyr understood that hunger, he’d only thought about it in passing. Late at night when his nose was full of Rose’s sweet scent, his ears filled with the lovely sound of her deep breathing. He watched the rise and fall of her breasts just under the sheets. It was only natural to love her and to lust for her at the same time. He laid there torturing himself with the question, does she feel the same?

She did. That night she tried to show him, but neither of them was experienced beyond what Rose had read from her father’s private library. There were more lessons to be taught than fighting and surviving. They were lessons Lyr found more frightening than any swordplay.

The touches were shy and clumsy but no less passionate. Lyr wanted to go first but Rose insisted. Her fingers were soft and caring. Though, because of the nervousness, his lack of attention to his own personal need, and just a dash of blame to his supplements, it didn’t take long for Lyr’s body to burst into flame. Just a lingering touch was all it took and he could barely stifle the sound with his knuckle before it was over.

Rose giggled and kissed the tender area before looking back at a very embarrassed Lyr. Thus started the awkward pulse between them, a second of miscommunication that left them both confused. Lyr felt guilt ridden and Rose feeling like she did something wrong. They opted not to speak about it and spent the rest of the night in their own private thoughts until sleep took them.

The following day was too busy to address the concerns and they collapsed shortly after sundown. Now, here they lay, awake, and Rose was attempting to build the bridge of communication once again. She kissed again and Lyr shuttered at the gentle touch.

“Was I horrible?” Rose whispered.

“No, not at all.”

“Did I hurt you? Or overstep my bounds?” Her warm breath prickled the fur along the inside of his thigh.

“It wasn’t you,” Lyr finally admitted. “I was embarrassed because of how quickly it all happened.”

Rose blinked and looked up at him. “Is that it? I felt so good that I got you to finish, I didn’t care how quickly it happened. I wouldn’t have cared if it took all night as long as I got to hear those sweet noises you make.”

“Yeah,” Lyr blushed as he started to nod but then shook his head. “It felt amazing; I was just so overwhelmed with guilt.”

“Because of how fast you-”

“That and because I was too scared to return the favor. After it happened, my body froze, and my mind was full of all this self-doubt. I just shut down.”

“I guess first times are like that.” Rose kissed his thigh again before doing a weak push up to sit on her heels.

“Maybe the stories the boys in the barracks were telling were just that. Stories.” Lyr chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling another nervous wave of embarrassment setting in.

“Well, whenever you feel comfortable to try again. I’d love to…soon I hope but no pressure.” Rose looked away, scratching her forearm lightly; Lyr could see a blush forming on her cheeks.

He stared at her for a moment, his mouth hung slacked. Then she gave a weak smile that soon shifted to a mischievous look. Slowly she settled back on the bed next to him. The pose of her naked body wasn’t subtle, nor was the beckoning fingers that waggled him closer. Lyr realized, when she said soon, she meant now. Lyr’s brain finally caught up to him and the unknown hunger took hold. He started to understand just what it wanted and that she hungered too.

Lyr fell upon her like as gently as a leaf on the surface of the water. His mind full of the lessons Rose taught him but they were all muddled and folded amidst his other lessons. His body was alive with electricity and hot like white fire. He felt fevered and faint at the same time, but there was nowhere he’d rather fall to at this moment. With what mental strength he had left; he pushed it all away. Instead, he focused on the one thing that mattered: Rose's very beautiful and very nervous face. The only words that lingered in his mind were the ones Rose told him. ‘I guess first times are like that.’  And they were.

Rose lasted only a second or two longer. The sensation of giving was much more exciting than receiving, though Lyr suspected Rose would beg to differ, if she could talk around her closed hand over her mouth. Her fingers grabbed his hair by the fistful. He could feel her training was making her stronger physically by how nearly she crushed his head with her thighs.

When her body settled from the desperate writhing, Lyr shifted to lie on top of her so they could smother each other in heated grinding. Her trembling fingers were quick to sooth his hunger. The feeling came on like a wave at high tide and washed out to sea just as quick. Lyr’s moaning pants were trapped in her mouth as they clumsily kissed to keep silent their lovemaking.

Lyr collapsed on top of her and she welcomed the extra weight. Enjoying how close he was. He rested his face between her sweat dampened breasts and gave a few shaky kisses. He could tell she was exhausted; she barely spoke and only managed to ruffle his hair slightly. After a few moments, Lyr found the strength to pull the covers over their shame before drifting in and out of consciousness.

Rose’s sweet voice roused him from his gentle slumber. “I think I’m even more exhausted from those five minutes, than I was in all the training I did yesterday.”

Lyr covered his face with on hand and started to snicker. “Right?”

Rose pushed her face into the top of his head and giggled right along with him.


	19. One Good Deed

Faster, Lyr ordered. His body was taut, each muscle tensed, every nerve burned like a fuse. The clashing of the swords was quick and concise, barely a second passed between them before another one followed. Low, high, roll, get to your feet, he admonished himself a blade swung wildly overhead; it clipped the top of his ear. Thankfully, the blade wasn’t sharpened. None of them were, but that didn’t stop the pain of being hit by them. Block, whirl, and…

Lyr lunged for the opening. Kia jumped and rolled her body forwards through the air before landing almost behind Lyr. His back was exposed. Bok jetted forward and Lyr rolled, using his blade to catch Rose’s sword that was aimed for his head. He managed to lock a hand on Bok spear, bracing the shaft against his hip as he spun. Bok was hefted through the air and slammed into Kia, knocking them both down.

“Sis, Da, you’re out,” Cara stated from the sidelines caressing her exceedingly rounded stomach.

With a firm push, Lyr shoved Rose into a twirl and he gave chase, kicking up sand as he went. Another block, this one too close for comfort, then a flash came from the side. Buma moved in, shield raised high. Lyr parried Rose again and shoulder bumped her for some space. What did they say about shields? Lyr danced away from the two attackers.

Rose lingered, taking a rest behind Buma’s axe and shield combo. Lyr would pay the price for that later, he reassured himself. Still, his mind drew a blank as to how to handle this situation. Buma could see him struggle and charged him with the shield held high and Lyr’s legs took over. They pushed him into a roll just as she passed by; he was up on his feet just as quick and sprinting at her. But Buma was quicker; she jerked around and dug her long shield in the sand. Lyr did the only thing he could think of, he jumped through the air and hugged his body tight like a cannonball against a body of water. When he struck, the shield rattled and hit Buma’s helmet hard enough to jostle her. She crumpled under the weight of the shield and Lyr’s body, falling flat. Lyr rolled off of her and was back on her feet before Cara could call her mother out of the ring.

Rose shifted around trying to read the attacker approaching her. It was hard to look past the fact that it was Lyr behind that faceguard and not some other soldier. She knew he meant to win. Winning meant more than just a day off from training. In all essence, it meant he lived, he won the day. She wanted him to live, but not at the expense of her own ‘life’.

The blade strike was strong but Rose blocked it perfectly. The clang vibrated Lyr's hands and set him reeling. She launched at him with a flurry of light attacks, pushing him further into confusion. Then she saw it: there was a glimmer in his eyes through the slit in his helmet. The way he moved, the way he parried and blocked her every attack. He was letting her wear herself out. He was letting her exhaust all that energy she gained while he dealt with Buma. Lyr was treating her as an equal, no long puppy guarding her. He wasn’t holding back anymore. Rose’s heart filled to bursting with this notion that she almost missed the elbow he threw…almost.

It was over just that quickly. Rose linked their arms as she whirled around. She bent her backside into his and pulled him completely off the ground. He was heavy but her legs were strong. The inertia carried him over and he fell flat on his face in the sand. The ginger cat let the motion carrying her through. She planted a foot under the blade of his sword and kicked it up from the sand, only to catch with her free hands, allowing herself a celebratory blade dance before striking a pose with one blade across her back, the other across her chest.

“Never have I seen anything so beautiful in my life.” Bok wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand before he started clapping.

“Three weeks and you’ve mastered all we have to teach, both of you have.” Buma gripped Lyr around the bicep and slowly pulled him to his feet with a grunt.

She helped him undo the strap at his chin so he could lift the helmet away. Kia had already done the same thing for Rose. They faced off again, this time with no helmets and no weapon in their hands. Rose could see the disappointment in his eyes but knew he’d get over it. Lyr wasn’t happy about losing, but he was very happy for who he lost too.

“That was amazing, Rose.” He panted softly.

“I can say the same. That part where you were going to let me wear myself out, brilliant. Almost fell for that.” Rose panted, leaning against him for support.

“Yeah, but I got-”

“Greedy,” Rose and Lyr said at the same time before panting out a laugh together.

“No training for either of you tomorrow, you both earned it. As for you, Rose, Buma will have a special gift for your victory later.” Bok snickered and clapped his hands; all of his children fell into line behind him.

“A gift?” Buma tensed up and rolled her eyes. “I’m not some jolly fat man, bringing gifts around.”

“No, but you do make the best gift baskets, dear.” Bok chuckled.

Lyr could see Rose’s smile falter, as she grew solemn and retreated into herself. He’d come to know that look, and seen it a few times over the course of the last week. When he asked about it, she often laughed it away or told him it was nothing to worry about now. This time the look was severe. She was concerned about something.

“We can’t keep pretending this is okay,” Rose said suddenly, her vocal spike stopped Bok and Buma in their tracks. It was so sudden the army of children slammed into their backs and stumbling.

“Rose,” Lyr took her hand but she pulled away.

“No, Lyr.” She looked at him. “For three weeks we’ve been here. Three weeks of healing and training, of living in paradise and sharing in your family. For all of those things, I’m eternally grateful, but we can’t lie about the real reason we’re here.”

Lyr nodded. “There’s a madman after us and the longer we stay here, the more danger your family is in. We can’t risk harm coming to them.”

Bok and Buma both turned to them and nodded. Bok licked his lips. “You’re right.”

“So, what to do?” Buma pursed her lips.

“I don’t know.” Lyr sighed. “Even with all of this training, I don’t think we can defeat him. The man is fueled by spite and hate and those are two allies that win wars.”

“But they also make mistakes.” Rose’s eyes went wide as she thought of a plan. “We need to find him and set a trap for him. If he’s so blinded by these things, then he’ll fall for it easily enough.”

“Sound reasoning, but where to start?” Buma asked. “In three weeks, he could be on the moon for all we know.”

“I know where he is,” a warm voice called from just beyond the group, back towards the heavy line of trees.

When everyone turned, they stopped cold. Lyr felt the blood in his veins freeze like ice. He reached for his sword and trembled as he realized his sheath was barren. Rose immediately moved in front of him, ready to protect him at a moment’s notice.

“Easy. Stay your hand, sister.” Nalka whispered softly as she shouldered a figure in black feathery robes. It was Mordreth.

“Are you insane, Nalka?!” Buma picked up Bok’s spear and held it ready.

“Wait.” There was a shimmer of sadness in her eyes.

Something happened to Mordreth, Lyr could feel it, something terrible. She clung to her sister, her head lolled forward so her hood covered her face. She wheezed and convulsed as she fought to breathe.

“Mordreth is dying, and with her last breath, she wishes to help us find Krom,” Nalka explained; her back bending under the weight.

“What happened to her?” Lyr moved up and swept Mordreth off her feet, cradling her.

The black hood fell back revealing her battered and bruised face. Dried blood crusted around her swollen lips and kinked nose. One side of her face, swollen to the point where her eye was pinched shut and blackened. There were bruises all over her body that could be seen against the gray of her flesh. She must have sustained broken ribs, maybe internal bleeding. Lyr guessed that whoever did this, whoever beat her, meant for her to die from these wounds.

“Krom beat her. Why, I cannot say.” Nalka seemed sad. “She’s not long for this world, and though she made choices that were not the kindest at times, I wish for her to part to the beyond in peace and comfort.”  
“Bok?” Lyr asked. His eyebrows arching back in sadness as he looked at the stumpy cat.

Lyr held no love for the witch. She was evil and the cause of so much pain and strife, but seeing her, alone and broken, surrounded by her enemies, he pitied her. Everything she’d sown was reaped before her eyes and she was cut down in the process. She deserved a chance to die in peace. Besides, a scorned witch was more dangerous dead than alive.

“Alright, take her to the boathouse,” Bok grunted. “Buma, bring blankets and medicine. Kia, water, buckets of it, please. The rest of you, inside and lock the doors. Cara, you go and watch over them.”

Now that everyone had their jobs, the group dispersed and Lyr carried Mordreth down the beach towards the small hut at the water’s edge. Bok led the way, while Rose fell in behind them.

The boathouse was cramped but easily turned into a medical center. Buma lined one of the old fishing boats with the blankets and a pillow. Lyr laid Mordreth down gently. Kia stumbled in with a bucket of lukewarm water, setting it next to a stool where Nalka sat. She dipped a scrap of cloth in the water and went to work cleaning her sister’s face. Everyone flinched when Mordreth reached one thin and shaky hand up to grab Nalka’s.

“No time.” She whispered, her voice ragged and wheezing.

“She’s dying,” Nalka said sadly, a tear escaped her beautiful glowing blue eye.

“What can we do?” Lyr asked; desperation thick in his voice.

“Nothing.” Mordreth panted and pulled Nalka’s hand to her face. Her cool fingerpads soothed her burning flesh.

“It’s now or never.” Nalka looked at Lyr. “Do you still have that potion I gave you?”

Lyr opened his pouch and pulled out the small vial of purple liquid. “I do.”

“I wish to put you into her memories,” Nalka explained.

“Her memories? No, I refuse.” Lyr’s voice was shaken by the prospect of experiencing the horrors that existed inside the woman’s head.

“That’s a clever boy,” Bok nodded, dabbing away his nervous forehead sweat.

“It may be the only way to find Krom.” Nalka urged him.

“I can’t. I’m afraid.” Lyr looked at Mordreth, then at the vial.

Rose sucked in a breath of air between her teeth and reached for the vial but he pulled it away.

“I’ll do it.” She said.

“Rose, no.”

“Shh, Lyr.” She whispered against the crest of his ear. “You always get play hero. Let me do it this time.”

“I-”

Rose pushed her lips to his in a loving kiss. It lingered for a moment before she pulled away. Lyr felt her fingers slip the vial from his hand and he let it fall to rest on her hip. She’d made up her mind and he knew there was no changing it now.

“It will be okay.” Rose smiled and looked at Nalka, who nodded.

“Never fear memories. They live in the past but they can determine the future.” Nalka sighed.

“Cheesy.” Bok smirked.

“Shut it!” Buma nudged him.

Lyr helped Rose climb into the boat. There was barely enough room for her and Mordreth to lay side by side, but they managed. When she was as comfortable as she could get, Rose pulled the stopper from the vial and downed the liquid, making a sour face following it up by a shudder that made her fur stand on end.

“You’re going to get sleepy,” Nalka instructed.

The white witch was right. Rose’s head filled with clouds and her vision started blurring. She uttered ‘I love you’ when she looked at Lyr, wanting him to be the last thing she saw before she faded. She felt warm as he uttered his love back to her. It vanished just as quick when she felt a warm clawed hand of Mordreth grip hers. She lolled her head around to look to the black witch. It wasn’t the witch she saw, it was a giant gaping beak of a crow cawing out to her. Then it bit down and swallowed her into blackness.


	20. Whispers from the Past

A much younger Mordreth, roughly the same age as Rose, stood on the bank of the river. She was beautiful then; her hair was long and pulled into a braid that fell against her almost naked back. The tight clothing strap over her chest barely covered her breasts but it kept her cool during the hot summer days. Her skirt was short to keep from soaking through with the water the squished up through the ground she stood on.

Mordreth peered out from behind a moss covered tree, mangled and shifted by the humidity in the bog air. She stared at a young troop of men that gathered beyond the water in a clearing. A larger male, a Maine Coon with amber eyes, looked over a map and then up to the sun that was blotted out by the gnarled canopy of tree limbs.

“There’s no god forsaken sun here,” he grumbled and looked back at the map. “Why the sod do you have all these doodles in the margins, but no other way to tell direction?”

Another young man, this one wasn’t clad in armor. Instead, he wore a scholarly outfit of black and gold. The slender man was more beautiful than handsome. He favored an artisan’s physique rather than a soldier’s. The gold trim on his jerkin matched the rims of his spectacles. His green eyes rolled as he slipped a huff.

“Alteir, moss grows on the north of the tree. It is basic tracking knowledge. Did you not pay attention?” His nasally voice chastised as he pointed to a scribbled note in the corner.

"Well,” His mouth hung slack before slowly drifting to a smile. “How would I ever do this without you, Simon?”

“You wouldn’t, you couldn’t, and if not for me, you and Reiner would have perished during training.” Simon gave the larger man a slap in the ribs.

 “Oh, woe is you.” Alteir smiled warmly.

“Indeed.”

Simon turned to talk to a soldier who was working hard to build a fire in a fire pit that was far too moist to ignite. Alteir listened to Simon’s instructions until the point he saw the strange maiden on the banks across the water. Then everything drifted away. He was entranced by her shimmering purple eyes. She looked so small, so fragile in this frightening place. Something noble clicked in the back of his head and before anyone could stop him, he trudged through the swamp after her.

The mud and water clawed at his legs up past his knees. He waited for the cold rush of swamp water to fill his boots but his thigh-high leather boots were thick and water resilient, perfect for swamp travel. When he reached the other bank, Mordreth backed away tripping on a root and falling back. Her chest heaved and panted as she scrambled to get away. Alteir stopped and held his hand out to her.

“Fear not, I’m here to help.” His words rode on the sweetest voice with a tone that could sooth a Chimera.

“I…” She started to cry in fear.

“It’s alright, now. My name is Alteir.”

Alteir knelt next to her and reached for his pouch. Mordreth squealed and darted away, hitting her head on a fallen log. It wasn’t hard enough to knock her out but it did rattle her vision for a second. When she looked back, the larger man held out a few scraps of jerky and a handful of dried apricots.

“Poisoned?” She whimpered; her thick accent made her whispery voice sound like a bird’s song.

“Certainly not,” Alteir ate one of the apricots and took a bit of the jerky with it. “See, perfectly safe.”

Mordreth reached for them with a shaky hand and she snatched them away, stuffing them into her mouth greedily. Alteir chuckled and unhooked a canteen from his belt, holding it out to her.

“Easy, easy, you’ll choke.”

Mordreth chewed loudly as she uncapped the bottle, smelling its content. Nothing, she detected no scent, but when the cool clear liquid hit her lips, the sensation bristled her flesh with goose pimples. She downed the half-full canteen in a few gulps. It left Alteir more than a little impressed.

“Wow, how long have you been out here?” Alteir took the canteen back when she held it out to him.

“I don’t know.” She looked back to the bank he’d come from.

Simon and a half dozen soldiers gathered at the bank, trying to spy a peek at what was going on but made no attempt to cross the bog after him. Alteir took her hand and patted the back of it comfortingly.

“They’re friends, no need to worry. How old are you, darling?”

“Sixteen winters, last counted. There are no seasons in the swamp, nor are there moons. Just dark and light, and then that is just barely so most of the time.” Mordreth allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

She was almost two feet shorter than the larger male and his shoulders were easily three times her width, but she could see a gentle nature in his eyes, one that pleased her. Alteir felt his heart flutter at the strong gaze of her purple eyes. This stranger was no more than a child, a child in need of someone to care for them.

“No more, little miss, we’ll be in these swamps for only a few more days and then you can come back with us to someplace much nicer and more civilized.” Alteir’s smile loosed his two fangs from his upper lip.

“It’s like a fairytale come to life.” She giggled and rested her hands on his chest, looking deep into his eyes.

“Come then, I’ll carry you.”

Alteir swept her off her feet easily, as if she weighed nothing. Mordreth rested her hands around his neck to hold on.

“Mordreth, by the way.” She said casually.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, little miss.” He stated as he started back across the bog to a line of soldiers waiting to receive them.

“Bring me a blanket, food, water, and a change of clothes. Simon, I’m sure you have something that might fit her.

Simon and a few of the soldiers started digging through their effects looking for the items Alteir requested. A smile crept to her lips, a cruel smile, as she watched them work to fulfill their lord’s desire, her desire. Finally, fortune smiled upon her and brought forth a band of very trusting, very eligible knights.

***

Nightfall in the swamp was darker than any cave. It was alive with the sound of millions of creatures all singing in a chorus that was less than harmonious. Alteir was barely asleep. His mind troubled by the young lass lost in the woods. He could swear he heard her in the tent next to him, snoring soundly. The first real sleep, she’d probably had since being lost in the swamp. It did his heart good to help her.

Then he heard the rustling of the waterproof fabric as the flap at the door slipped open. When he looked up, he saw the small girl creeping into his tent, settling into the bedroll next to him. Even in the dark, his eyes adjusted enough to know that she wasn’t wearing anything. It was affirmed when she pressed his strong hand to her warm, meager breast.

“What are you doing?” He whispered, he tried to pull his hand away but she was stronger than she looked.

Mordreth’s lips found his as she pounced on top of him. She straddled him and pressed something cold and sharp to his throat. Alteir knew enough to understand that she would slit his throat if he spoke. She pressed her lips firmer to his and pinched his nostrils with her other hand. When he couldn’t hold back any longer, he snatched a quick breath through and she spat a fiery liquid in his mouth. It burned like the tartest citrus juice he’d ever tasted.

“You belong to me.” She whispered, her eyes glowing purple in the dark and Alteir’s world became darkness.

Flashes, that’s all that could be remembered for what followed next. Mordreth fought to control Alteir's mind. His military conditioning weakened to the charm potion's effects, but she still managed to hold his mind captive.

The patrol stood no chance against their captain. Alteir was strong but it was nothing compared to the trust his men had in him. He struck them down easily and quietly before he picked her up and trudged off in the darkness of the swamp.

When there was light again, they were in a cave. It was a cave that had been converted to a home. In the firelight, things still teetered on the realm of haze and reality. Cold chains bit into Alteir’s wrists as he wailed and cried at Mordreth’s lashes. The cave was filled with the sound of her whip drawing blood from his body, enough to fill a cup, a bowl, a bucket, maybe more. It made his stupor a permanent reality.

Mordreth smeared dark symbols and unholy birth rites onto her body with his blood. She infected him with a potion that made him hard and lustful for the woman he’d grown to hate and scorn when he was alone in the dark of his cell. She pulled hard at the hair at the back of his head as she rode him repeatedly. She milked him over and over, taking his seed into her. All the while she muttered a feverish incantation until her own climax choked her raspy voice.

It went on like this for days, weeks. Alteir lost count. His body was filthy, his wounds were infected, and he was nearing death. None of it disgusted him more than the fact that he smelled of her, of her sin and filth.

One night, she’d become too cocky, too enthralled in her conquest. After the beatings, she unchained him. She’d pushed herself too far with her potions, liquor, and other indulgences. It left her in a stupor and when she was sated, she passed out on the floor next to him.

When Alteir’s head started to clear, his instincts took over. He busted free, closing the cell door behind him as he ran to the mouth of the cave. The gray dawn welcomed him as he ran into the swamp naked and alone. He hoped he would find his death. It would be more welcome than the hell he’d already endured.

***

More images flooded through, but they’d become hectic and distorted. Potions and herbs infected Mordreth’s mind by now. She bore a child, alone in the swamp as she’d thought she wanted. But he favored his father too much. The look of him only reminded her of her failed conquest. Sometimes, when the baby laughed, it fueled her with anger and frustration that drove her down on him.

Krom was raised under the lash and molded into something monstrous. Potions and herbs infected him as well. She’d imbibed many of them while he was in her womb. It twisted his mind into a driving force that was easily manipulated, and she did just that. All talk of his abandoning father and the pleasure she took from his tears. He watched longingly through the reflection of the cauldron as Alteir cradled the baby Roslynda and kissed her face. Then the time he comforted a small boy, who wept at the grave of his family. So many images broke him down over time. His tears rippled the surface of the water while Mordreth quietly laughed at his pain.

When Krom watched Alteir with the happy children, a fury burned in his eyes. It consumed him and pulled him into a darkness from which there was no return. His father had abandoned him to this life, this ruin, and by god, he would deliver it back to him in full.

The broken memories were fading fast. Mordreth screamed and slapped Krom’s face hard enough to rattle his teeth. Her words echoed beyond the white haze that slowly set in at the edges of her mind.

“Fool, tarry with your father no longer. This obsession cost you your vengeance. Fool boy, stupid boy.” She lashed down with her whip and it cut hard into his back.

“He will love me, mama. You will see.” Krom wept as he ground something in the mortar and pestle.

“Stupid boy, stay out of that book.” When she reached for it, Krom caught her hand and shoved her away.

“He will love me, mother.”

Krom stuffed a wad of leaves and herbs into Alteir’s toothless mouth. The figure moaned and his head lolled to look at him with unseeing eyes. If he was still alive, it was only barely, and that only because death feared to take what he’d become, what he was made into.

“He will love me, mother. He will love me like he could never love you.” Krom choked on a laugh. “You will watch from the beyond as my father loves me. You will realize your failing at collecting his sweet love. I will be his, Lyr, I will be his, Rose, and he will love me.”

“You’re deranged. You’re sick. I should have scraped you out of my womb when I had the chance.” Mordreth wheeled on him and clawed deep into his neck.

Then the thunder came, followed by the lightning, but not from nature. The thunder was the sound of his fists hitting her bare flesh. The lightening was the white hot flash behind her eyes as her cheekbone shattered. It was a flurry of punches that shattered her ribs, broke her arms, and slit her flesh. When she hit the floor, it was the lightest hit she’d taken. It was welcoming and cold against her hot and swollen flesh.

Mordreth was dead for a few seconds until she forced herself a ragged breath. Krom was gone, and she must go too. Through the mouth of the cave into a white haze that lingered on the image of Nalka, Lyr, and Bok. A strangling sensation filled the image and then it all faded to black.


	21. Can't Stop Now

Rose gasped and choked, her arms clawed the air as if she were digging herself out from the grave. Cool water from the tub splashed around her, setting her body prickled with gooseflesh. Her nipples drawn so tautly they hurt even when her arm lightly grazed them. She heard something thundering behind her and a panic took hold. Her mind’s eye conjured a monster that was about to fall upon her. Rend the flesh at the back of her neck and leave her to bleed out.

At that instant, something closed around her neck. She cried out and winced but it was nothing more than a warm hand. A friendly face filled the side of her vision. Her ears were twitching at the coaxing coo of Lyr’s voice, calming her from this frantic state.

“Lyr!” She started to cry from her adrenaline pumped fear.

“It’s alright, Rose. I’m here.” Lyr pulled her tight and kissed her cheek firmly before pulling her up out the water. “You’re freezing. Let’s get you out of here.”

Rose didn’t fight; she just stood there and trembled from the cold and the slow drain of her adrenaline. Lyr quickly dried her off with one towel, immediately replacing it with another. He wrapped it under her arms and pulled it tight before sweeping her up and carrying her to the bed. Rose pressed her head to the soft binding of bandages across Lyr’s chest and sobbed.

“Are you alright?” Lyr asked. He was panting now as well. Rose could hear his heart hammering against his ribcage.

“No. I saw so many things, terrible things.” Rose started rambling through her sobs. “She tortured Alteir and raped him…used him. Oh god, she made him kill his men. Mordreth was a monster. She did terrible things to Krom. But she’s dead now.”

“Shh, you’re getting hysterical.”

Rose’s eyes opened wide as she dug her claws into Lyr’s shoulders and looked at him. “I…felt her die, Lyr. I felt her soul leave her body.”

“Easy now, just lay here and tell me all about it. Try to remain calm.”

Lyr lay back on the bed and Rose moved with him. Her head still pressed against his chest as she worked on deep breathing to calm herself. When she was ready, she told him everything she could remember. Lyr ran his fingers lightly through the fur on her shoulders. He wasn’t sure if it was working for her but it was certainly keeping him contained as she shared the terrible story of what she saw.

“He has Alteir drugged?” Lyr asked, his fingers playing up the back of her neck.

The motion forced Rose’s eyes shut as she stifled the moan. “Yes, or something like that.”

“Do you know where they are?”

“They’re in a cave, in the swamp. I could see visages of crude graves just beyond the mouth. Nalka may know more. We’ll speak to her in the morning.” Rose yawned and pushed her face tighter to Lyr’s chest.

Lyr looked at the ceiling for a long time, thinking about the fate of his second father. If he was being drugged, there may still be a way to save him. The thought of the sweet man in the custody of the Krom, that monster, caused the veins in Lyr’s neck to tighten. He’d never hated someone before and it was a feeling he’d not grown accustomed to having. It made his blood boil; it blinded him to rational thinking. When he saw Krom again, he would sever his head from his body. Nothing so evil should live. On that thought, he drifted into the promised nightmares his hate would bring. 

***

The wagon rocked and teetered almost to the point of rolling over. Bok angled it the best he could through the uneven roads at the edge of the swamp. Lyr sat on one side, consumed by thoughts of Alteir’s fate and the fate of the monster, Krom. Rose sat on the other, going over all of the things she'd discussed with Nalka the morning before they left.

The day before had felt like a dream or a nightmare. It was a gray and misty morning, and the promise of rain wasn’t far off. They’d held a funeral pyre for Mordreth at Nalka’s request. Buma, Bok, and Rose attended for her sake. Lyr couldn’t bring himself to go.

Afterward, Rose had spoken to Nalka about the memories she'd shared with Mordreth, but Nalka only half listened, which was understandable. Her sister had just died, after all, and no ill should ever be spoken about the dead.

Nalka offered up what knowledge she could about the strange makeshift grave site. It turned out that it was a ritual circle that ancient witches gathered at, but had long since lost it's magical aura or so she thought. Now it was nothing more than a place to grow herbs and roots for potions with recipes long forgotten.

“Two days’ time,” Nalka had whispered and wiped her eyes. “Ride to the southwest and enter the crest of the swamp. When you come to the road, take a hard right and follow the path until you reach the edge of consciousness. You’ll know the moment you reach it. It’s the cradle of the old gods. It feels heavy and smells of magic.” Her explanation was clear, even through a tear-strained voice.

“Will you come with us?” Rose pleaded, knowing that her presence would be comforting.

“I would not step foot there even to bring my sister back. That is not a place for the good of heart to go.” With those haunting words, Rose left her to her mourning.

Now, in hindsight, Rose realized that this plan may be the worst they could have ever come up with. It was through her hasty pressing that Bok agreed to leave in the first place. Were they even ready for this? If they failed, it would be her fault. She felt a lump in her throat. To make matters worse, Lyr hadn’t spoken much since she told him about the dreams. Rose could see the sadness in his eyes and knew him well enough to know why he grieved. Should she speak to him now, while they have a moment? It may save him from making a rash decision later.

But the time was already past and Bok brought the cart to a halt. “This is as far as we go on the cart. Baviere will have no part of this.”

Lyr nodded solemnly as he slipped down from his seat, his feet sinking in the mud as soon as he landed. Rose rounded Baviere at the front of the wagon and joined Lyr, who was staring out across the swamp in the late morning light. The branches and bushes climbing out like a gnarled skeleton of a house from a fire. Lyr jolted and looked at her when she laced their fingers. A smile finally found its way to his lips, albeit a weary one.

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“No,” Was all he uttered, and she knew he wasn’t.

“Before we go past this, before we start, let’s take this moment to clear your mind.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I need you. I need the Lyr that that stands against all odd to protect me.”

Lyr’s eyes narrowed. He knew she was just being dramatic. There was nothing he could do that she couldn’t. She was, by all rights, a knight equal if not better than him. Still, she was right. Not focusing on the task at hand would do nothing to save Alteir or remove Krom from the equation. It would only end up killing them in the long run.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so angry at Krom for everything he’s done to Alteir, to us. This is not a life I would have wanted for me, for you, for any of us.” Lyr pulled her hands to his lips, kissing the knuckles of her fingers.

“Funny thing about life, kids; it doesn’t care. It will give you what it gives you, whether you’re ready or not. If you don’t face it, if you don’t deal with it, then you really lose.” Bok’s words weren’t comforting, though they hardly ever were, but they were true.

“You don’t have to come with us, you know.” Lyr looked down at the stumpy cat, who was fishing a spear from holder under his wagon.

“What, and miss a chance to see you two get murdered horribly? No way.” He cackled as he turned to face them.

“That’s pretty dark,” Rose smirked.

“Aw, did I hurt your feelings? Let me grab you a tissue.” Bok reached into his pocket and produced a rude gesture that caused Lyr and Rose to laugh in unison.

“You’re terrible,” Rose said while laughing.

Seeing them laugh brought a light to Bok’s eyes and a smile to his lips. “There’s my kids.”

This was a moment of happiness that couldn’t be squandered, not for anything in the world. The three of them knew all too well what was at stake and once they passed into this strange new world. They knew that none of them may come back from this. This brief moment of happiness is all they could afford in light of the bad things that lingered on the horizon. And as quickly as the happiness had set in, it was gone, and the three of them turned and started down the path that may very well lead to their doom.

***

The hours slipped away as Lyr and Rose mentally prepared for what was to come. But once they reached the depths of the swamp, that all changed. It felts as though they rounded the edge of this consciousness and passed into another realm altogether. That was the best way Lyr could describe the feeling that lingered all around him. The once sunlit canopy of dead trees above changed into something thick with a strange purple fog. The murky water and mud slick path below turned to hollowed crumbling dirt that shifted unevenly like mounds of ash and debris from a fire. The air was so heavy Lyr could barely catch his breath. He found himself gripping his chest in the hopes that it would help. His steps were heavy as if he were traversing snow or the sand itself. Strange effigies hung from gnarled wooden sticks, etched with ancient ruins that none of them could read.

“Burial mounds,” Bok said, his voice sounded as if he were speaking underwater.

Rose slowed her steps and looked around. “There are hundreds of them.”

“Thousands of them,” Lyr affirmed. “Du Mont swamps used to be a different place once. A century and a half ago, it was a land rich with resources, but King Du Mont grew greedy and over harvested.”

“That did all this?”

“No,” Bok chimed in. “There was a great war fought in this land. On a battlefield that spread a hundred miles or more. Horses, men, children, women, they all died. It didn’t matter if they were soldiers, kings, civilians, or common folk, they just all died.”

“They were buried here.” Rose stared at an etched horse skull, hanging from the crucifix made of petrified wood.

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” Bok rounded a stone. “A witch who lived here, grew tired of seeing her home trampled, people murdered in her front yard, trebuchet fire tearing up her land, all of it. She brought forth a tidal wave from the oceans that stretch near up to the very walls of castle Du Mont and she wiped the slate clean.”

“Oh my god,” Rose paused. “Hence why witches are feared and hated.”

“That’s putting it mildly. They were hunted and murdered. In penance, the witch who caused all of this set to burying those who died. She built effigies for each of them; said eulogies for everyone, in the hopes that she could cleanse this land and make amends for what she did.” Lyr took back over the story as he stepped to the front of the group.

“It didn’t work.” Rose sighed.

“She was brutally murdered by Prince Exonera Du Mont before she could finish.” Lyr tucked his thumbs in his belt and shook his head.

“Funny, that’s a decent lesson in irony. Don’t murder the person trying to help you because then you’re up a creek.” Bok snickered.

“I’m sure there’s more to it than just that moral, oh short one.” Lyr pushed on.

“Be that as it may, there’s a dark magic here, so we should tread lightly,” Rose said, hurrying to meet up with them.

“Tread lightly, indeed, for we tread on the backs of the ancient dead,” Lyr added in a somber tone.

Bok pushed passed him as they crossed a shallow puddle and started over the next rise. The stubby cat stopped suddenly and put his hand to Lyr’s hip to keep from being shoved over. Just on the other side of the slope was the mouth of a cave. Judging by the strange writing and the lit torches around the mouth, it was the cave they were looking for.

“That’s it,” Rose whispered.

“How do you know?” Lyr looked back at her.

“Well, the dozens of dead Du Mont soldiers would be a _dead_ giveaway.” Even Bok didn’t laugh at his own terrible joke.

Bok was right. All of the remaining Du Mont soldiers, at least the ones who attacked the castle, were strewn about. They were either gutted, their throats slit, or just decapitated. The strange thing that caught Lyr’s eye was the body looked emaciated, drained of all their blood, but why? Legends tell of vampires and succubus that drink blood to survive, but those things were merely stories to be shared by children, right?

They stared on at the mouth of the cave as if it were the gateway to hell itself and the devil, Krom, was inside. The end was near; this is what they traveled so far for and soon it would all be over, one way or the other.


	22. Facing Down Demons

Lyr, Rose, and Bok stood just beyond the cave. They couldn’t bring themselves to move any closer. That’s when they heard a voice from inside the cave. It sounded like a maniacal mumbling, deep and disconcerting. It was followed by the sound of an unearthly moan that attempted words but only barely.

“What in the name of all that is holy was that?” Bok panted.

“We should find out,” Rose whispered and crouched down.

Rose started down the slope in a crouched run. She deftly managed to avoid making noise or tripping over any of the soldiers that were strewn about. She carried herself right up to the mouth of the cave and crouched down amidst the rocks around the mouth. Lyr darted after her, trying to follow her exact footsteps right up until he pressed his shoulder to the wall next to her. Bok wasn’t far behind him, and he settled in between them.

The three of them peeked around the mouth of the cave and looked in. The smell was the first thing Lyr noticed. There was something fetid and sour smelling inside. It smelled like rotten fruit that had decayed so badly, it swelled and burst out its own innards.

The cave opened up into a large expanse with a fire pit set in the center of the room. A large cooking cauldron sat on the flames complete with a noxious looking brew boiling inside of it. The table had been turned over and jars were shattered all over the floor spilling their contents, potion components, and herbs mostly, but there was some flour and dried fruit as well. Clouds of flies hovered around the area like a fog.

“Am I a good boy?” A figure crouched near the corner asked. His tone made the hair on Lyr’s neck raise.

“Yes,” A hollow moan answered, it reflected a voice that was meant to sound happy but it only disjointed in tone.

Krom knelt on the floor in front of a figure slumped in a chair. The natural arch of the cave cast a shadow on it, though Lyr had a sneaky suspicion of who it was. There were jars full of blood scattered around them with tubes tracing a line to a strange device and then up into the shadowed figure. Krom turned to added several pumps to a strange device that resembled a bellow. Lyr could hear a soft suckling sound and the strange figure in the corner moaned.

“Is daddy hungry?” Krom asked; his voice twisted beyond reasoning.

“Yes,” The figure slumped forward into the light. “My beautiful baby boy.”

The thing that had once been Alteir was nothing more than a disfigured shadow now. His fur had matted and turned gray. There were large chunks of it missing, replaced by open wounds that seeped pus instead of blood. His eyes were fully white now from cataracts and were as hollow as his moans. His clawed hands gripped and tugged hard on the arms of the chair. A bloated tongue flopped out, forming words in his toothless mouth. Familiar words that had once be reserved for Lyr now were as twisted and disjointed as any nightmare but this was one that Lyr couldn’t wake up from.

Lyr choked a gasp and rolled back against the wall, tears streaming down his face. Rose followed him, covering his mouth with her hand to keep him quiet so he could cry. She’d always been close to Alteir but nowhere near as close as Lyr had been. It’s not that the sight didn’t make her sad to see. She just knew this was his time to cry, her time would have to come later. Lyr trembled against her, his fingers clawing at the leather flaps on her hips.

“Stay with me,” Rose whispered into the crest of his ear.

She could feel his chest hitch as he took a deep calming breath through his nose. Lyr was trying hard to control himself; she could see it in the hollowing of his eyes. When she pulled her hand away, he loosed a shaky exhale and nodded. Rose gave him a loving kiss and pushed her face to his.

“I swear to you, there will be time to mourn for Alteir. But for now, we need to avenge him.” Rose glared deeply into Lyr’s eyes.

He could feel the fire in her words as he rested his hand on his sword hilt. “Yes.”

Rose got to her feet and helped him up. “Yes.”

Lyr drew his sword. “This is monstrous. We can’t stand by and let this happen. Not to him, not to my father.”

Rose followed his lead as she drew her sword and the three of them stepped around the mouth of the cave to face off against Krom and his monster.

Before Lyr could get close enough to attack, Krom was up from the ground with a smooth rolling shift. He punted a glass jar in Lyr’s direction. He was quick to cover up but it shattered against his forearm, splattering blood and shards of glass all over him. By the time he lowered his arms; Krom halved the distance and was in mid swing with the sword that had once been his.

Too slow, Lyr worried, but heard the blade bank off of another and grind away harmlessly through the air. Rose had crouched and passed between them, deflecting the blade away but putting her dangerously close to Krom’s gripping hand. Lyr struck with a lunge, only to get a backhand across the face. It hurt and caused him to reel away but it was a necessary sacrifice to buy time for Rose to get away.

All the while, the oblivious Alteir sat in his chair clapping with a wet staccato tone. His monotone voice uttered cheers for his son’s combat maneuvers. Lyr had heard similar words spoken to him during his training. It twisted a knot in his stomach, distracting him from the fight.

Rose was poised, though; she ducked in and out so quickly that Krom could barely counter her. Thanks to the spear, Bok used his distance as an advantage to keep the much smaller Rose from being overpowered.

“I should have killed you both when I had the chance,” Krom growled. He swung his sword hard enough to send Rose to her knees.

Lyr threw a shoulder into Krom, sending him stumbling across the room. He nearly tripped over a toppled chair but kept his footing. The calico pressed the attack, only to have the chair kicked into his legs sending him down. He managed to buy Rose enough time so she was up on her feet, but Krom was already after her.

“Picking on the weak first, that’s not very gentlemanly of you.” Bok chided as he slapped Krom hard in the back of the legs with the haft of his spear.

Frustration bled red into Krom’s face as he started to lose his patience with it. He twirled his large body around, switching his sword from one hand to the other. Bok retreated but it wasn’t enough. The larger male caught Bok’s spear and cleaved the tip off of it before kicking the stumpy cat as hard as he could. Bok gasped and flew a few feet away before rolling. His back hit the cold stone wall of the cave.

“Bok!” Lyr moved for him, missing that Krom angled back to throw the spearhead.

The hit was ill-aimed but it still tore through the leather armor at his shoulder. The blade sliced the flesh and fur underneath. It only hurt for a second, but Lyr could feel the warm, wet blood filling up the sleeve of his armor. It forced him to pull his arm tight to his stomach just to keep it out of the way.

Rose grunted and sent a flurry of swipes at the larger cat. He managed to block the first two before he was forced to retreat back in the direction of the monstrosity that had once been Alteir.

“Good job, son,” Alteir mumbled; a line of viscous drool dribbled down from his swollen tongue. “That’s my beautiful boy.”

“Thank you, daddy,” Krom smirked; his chest swelling with pride. “Soon I’ll deal with these two children and you’ll have even more to eat.”

“Yummy. I’m hungry.”

Lyr gasped and charged; his hit was solid enough to widen Krom’s eyes. The larger cat was further put on the defensive now. Rose pursued the larger cat, cutting him off from his escape but she made an error in his distance. He was closer than she thought and it cost her dearly. The solid punch to the slacked leather armor at her side rattled her ribcage and pulled the air from her lungs. She fell to the ground gasping and heaving for air, no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t get enough in her lungs.

“Die!” Krom brought the sword above his head but hadn’t counted on Lyr closing the distance.

There was a burst of crimson from the stump that had once been Krom’s hand. It fell away under the weight of his sword and clattered to the floor noisily but not enough to be heard over Krom’s wailing. The larger cat spun and kicked Lyr in the chest before pushing his way past.

Lyr fumbled back and fell to his knees. Then something unexpected happened and it came on the tone of a guttural hiss.

“Not my boy!” Alteir jerked up from where he was sitting and fell upon Lyr.

His powerful claws shredded the leather armor at his back and raked the flesh underneath. Lyr’s cries filled the small chamber. Krom just chuckled cruelly as he took a knee next to the fire. He gritted his teeth as he quickly shoved his hand into the burning embers to cauterize his wound. The sounds of his moaning were drowned out by the Lyr’s desperate cries as he tried to escape.

A lump caught in Rose’s throat as she ran to his aid. Krom quickly intercepted her. He swung slow and clumsily with his left hand but it was enough to put Rose off the rescue. She blocked his attack and worked to put distance between them. Still, Krom kept coming, the fire in his eyes threatened to catch her ablaze. It took every ounce of control to keep from focusing on Lyr. One false move would be her death.

“Get off of him, you ugly bastard!” Bok grabbed the fetid creature and hammered him in the face as hard as he could with his shoulder satchel.

The hit was solid enough to send Alteir fumbling to the ground, where he struggled to get control of his faculties. Bok was quick to drop his bag and start rifling through it, pulling out strange red sticks.

Krom turned to see what the commotion was and Rose stomped down on his foot to draw his attention. The bigger cat turned and swung his nub in her direction. She passed underneath and rounded his wide body to give him a firm shove. She knew it would leave her open but she had to protect Bok and Lyr, even if it meant her life. Krom glared as he pushed back and tried to swing his sword at her. She blocked and let the force of it push her away to safety.

Alteir managed to get back on his feet and he went for the stumpy cat on impossibly fast legs. Bok ducked and brought a dagger from the sheath hidden under his vest. The slash was smooth across the creature's gut, spilling his innards on the floor. Bok managed to duck and dodge each flailing attack until he found his opening.

“Alright, you ugly son of a bitch,” Bok grumbled and darted in, shoving several of the strange red sticks into the gaping wound.

“What are you doing?” Krom screamed.

At the same time, Bok struck his tinder lighter and kicked Alteir back against the wall. “Making things right,”

Bok darted down, grabbing Lyr by the shoulders and pulling him away. Everything went silent in the chamber, silent enough to hear the hiss of the fuse. Then a bright flash filled the room and a loud bang shuddered the earth below their feet. The explosion sent out a shockwave that pushed them all to the ground and covering them with viscera. The place where Alteir had been was nothing more than a scorch mark now.

“Father!” Krom cried and fought to get to his feet, tears filling his eyes. “I will kill you!”

Krom hurled himself across the floor at a sprint, his sword held out. Bok strained to drag Lyr away. The larger cat would be upon them in seconds and neither of them was in any condition to get away.

Lyr heard something, something loud that rumbled through him. Now his ears were ringing but he could at least see again. His body hurt as if he had been injected by a million syringes at once. It’s alright, he reminded himself. They were all going to make him better after all. Rose would see to it. Bok and Buma would make him a good breakfast and then they could start training again.

He blinked a few times and what he saw wasn’t what he expected to see. He saw Krom coming at him like a runaway carriage. His hand was gone. How did that happen and where were they? Then instinct took over. Lyr got to his knees and raised his sword in just enough time to deflect the blade from hitting Bok who stood at his side. Bok fell back against the wall and Lyr sat back on his heels. He had nothing left and Krom knew it. The larger cat drew back his sword and plunged it forward. A ginger flash filled Lyr’s vision and he heard a deep grunt.

Krom’s wide eyes were locked with Rose’s she closed her hand around his blade embedded through her armor and shoulder. She had her teeth gritted and refused to cry, instead she stared fire into him. His mouth went lacks and he started shaking his head. Confusion filled his mind. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Why?” He panted. “Why throw your life away so needlessly?”

Rose swallowed hard and blinked the growing pain back. “Because Lyr is my family and I love him. I’d do anything for him.”

“Even die for him?” Krom shifted the blade slightly but she stayed silent.

“Especially die for him. My world would be nothing without him.” Rose slipped to one knee, digging the tip of her blade into the stone floor to keep her balance.

“I don’t understand!” Krom’s eyes soften. “This…this is all madness!”

“Sometimes, love is madness. But I would endure it all for him.” Rose blinked again; she was losing herself to the pain.

Lyr rested his hands against her back and pushed his face into her hair. “As I would for her.”

“Fools!” Krom yelled, jerking the sword free as he fell back a few steps.

The weight of his confusion pulled him to his knees as he stared at them. His eyes were wide and wild as if he’d seen a ghost or something supernatural. There was a twinge of fear underneath the fury. This was something he’d never known existed. He hung his head, pushing his chin into his chest.

“Why?” He whimpered.

Lyr remained quiet as he crawled forward and put the point of his blade against Krom’s throat. Krom raised his head and swallowed at the feeling of it biting into the flesh but he didn’t shy away from his impending punishment. He welcomed it.

“Please, free me from my misery.” He whimpered.

Rose was quick to grab Lyr’s hand, wincing at the pain that spiked in her shoulder. “No, Lyr.” She whispered softly. “He’s defeated. There’s no need to kill him.”

Lyr looked at her with the same look that Krom gave.

Krom's voice rumbled in his throat. “You would show me mercy, after all I’ve done?”

Rose nodded and licked her parched lips. “I’ve seen your life through the memories of your mother. You’ve already been punished and have died hundreds of times over. There is nothing we could do that would release you from you fate.”

“But I don’t know what to do, now.” Krom looked at his nub and his blood soaked hand. For the first time, he could see all the stains, even the ones he’s washed away long ago.

“That’s your choice, Krom. You’re free now to choose.” Rose mumbled as Lyr helped her to her feet. “The weight of your mother and father’s fates are no longer yours to bear.”

Lyr swallowed hard and wrapped an arm around Rose, holding her close. “Do as we do, Krom. Pick up the pieces and move on.”

“But I may come for you one day.” His voice was unconvincing.

“And if you do, if that day comes...it will be your last. That much I swear to you.” Rose clung to Lyr as they started past him. Bok quietly fell in behind them.

As they passed, Lyr stooped down to take Alteir’s sword from beside Krom. Rose stopped him, lacing her fingers with his and bringing his hand to her lips.

“Leave it.” She whispered. Her breath was warm on his trembling hand. “It’s all he has left of a father who didn’t know he existed. You will always have the memories and the lessons Alteir taught you. You will have his hugs, his kindness, and his love. Krom has nothing.”

Lyr looked at the sword and then at Krom. “You’re right.” His voice was sad but he nodded and he started off again, shouldering Rose as they went.

Lyr heard the blade slide across the stone floor behind them. Rose tensed and gripped Lyr tighter. They were both worried about what was coming. Yet Lyr didn’t slow his pace. He simply waited for the attack that never came.

When he reached the mouth of the cave, he turned to see Krom hugging the blade tightly to his chest. He held it so tight that it bit into his flesh causing the blood to run free. Krom didn’t say anything; he just hugged the blade tighter.

This was the first time Lyr could look past his anger and his hatred for Krom. It all melted away into pity. It made him sad to see the warrior so desperately searching for some type of love, some kind of acceptance that may never come. The calico realized just how blessed he’d been in his life. For that, he could forgive the nightmare on two legs that had once been the masked man. It was time to go home and start anew.

As they stepped outside the cave, they came face to face with a somber Nalka. There was a concerned look in her eyes. When she saw them, she touched her chest, her look only growing sadder. She wasn’t there to see them, Rose knew all too well. Krom was the last connection she had to her sister and she was desperate to meet him, to get to know him.

“Is he...?” She asked.

“No. He’s inside.” Rose whispered as they passed her, heading back towards the carriage.

Lyr halted for a moment and slipped his satchel from his back. Rose was too eager to hold it for him as he dug a small frame from within. It was the etched picture of Alteir, before he was twisted into shadows. Lyr passed the picture to Nalka with a sad look in his eyes.

“I don’t think anyone has ever given Krom a gift before. Give him that for me, tell him it’s a gift from his brother.” The word caught on Lyr’s lips, a moment of regret perhaps, but it slipped away, just as quick.

Rose gasped and covered her mouth as a fresh wave of tears filled her eyes. Nalka took the picture and pulled it to her chest. She started to sob and hurried into the cave.

“Lyr…” Rose said through a strained voice.

“Let’s go home.”

Bok nodded and moved to the front, a soft smile coming to his lips. “Well, my home. You’re just freeloading.”

The two spared a chuckle as they clung to each other and started away. None of them looked back. Instead, Lyr kissed Rose’s cheek and gave her a ragged smile. She smiled back, though it was clear that her mind was on other things. Things that they wouldn’t speak of, there was no need to. They’d done what they came to do, more or less. Now it was time to start living their lives again.


	23. A Misty Morning Paradise

Lyr walked along the dark hallway, the only thing accompanying him were the lonely sounds of his footsteps echoing off into the blackness. A thin strip of light shone just beyond, it was a door. He rested his hand on the handle; the iron was cool to the touch. When it slipped down, he could hear the click echoing through the hall. With a soft push, the door creaked open.

The sound echoed deafeningly. Lyr almost covered his ears but then it went deadly silent again. What was going on? Everything was strange and frightening, yet oddly familiar at the same time.

When he stepped inside, he could smell the trappings of home. The lacquered wood scent mixed with the warm scent of Ludvaer root and mint, a favorite tobacco of Alteir. They worked to soothe the chill that ran through him. A light hint of honey oil lingered beneath, his adopted father always smelled of honey.

“My boy,” A warm voice called from the shadow of a high-backed chair. “You look like a sheet. Nightmares plague your dreams?”

Something passed through Lyr at a full run. It took a second for him to recognize that it was him, a twelve-year-old him. The boy cried into the oversize sleeve of his borrowed shirt. Lyr now knew it was a dream or more, a memory and he wanted to watch it unfolded.

The slender boy climbed into Alteir’s lap and rested his head against his chest. “I saw mother, dying. Father was sick with grief from burying Lonnie. There was a river of tears, threatening to drown me. I was so scared.”

Lyr remembered this moment, barely a month after his family died and he’d watch his home and lands burned. It took him six months to make any kind of real recovery but Alteir was patient and that’s what the boy needed the most.

“It’s good to be scared, Lyr. It reminds us of what could happen if we let our guard down.” Alteir’s voice trembled as he passed his fingers down the tangled mess of hair at the back of the boy’s head. “There will be obstacles you cannot face alone and others that you cannot face at all. When that time comes, fear will make your decisions for you and sometimes that’s for the best. You’re strong. I see that, and I know that you will find a way in this world.”

“It’s such a big world.”

“Of that, there is no doubt, my boy, and I will teach out how to traverse it in such a way that you will always remain vigilant, so this fate doesn’t befall you again.” Alteir lifted the pipe to his lip and took a long drag from it.

“Why? How? I’m so small, I don’t even know-”

“Shh.” Alteir pressed a kiss to the boy’s temple. “That is not for you to concern yourself with tonight. Relax, and I will tell you a story about another young boy who was left with no option.”

Alteir snuffed out his pipe and set it on the table next to him, while he waited for Lyr to get comfortable. “Good?”

“Yes.”

“Once there was a boy, left cold and lonely on the steps of an abbey. His mother, taken from him; his father lost to the war. He wept and cried in the face of it all.” A warm smile came to Alteir’s face. “There on the steps, he met another orphan, a scrawny black patch in the world, named Simon. ‘It’s alright,’ He said. ‘No good ever came from blubbering all day.’ At first, it seemed cruel, but he still laughed. ‘There you go, now, let’s get you inside and cleaned up.’ He took my...his hand and led him to my new family.”

“Is this story about you?” The boy asked.

“Hush now, you’ll miss the moral.” Alteir laughed. “I spent most of that week ill and in bed. But come Sunday, Simon came to me and ushered me down to mass. There was something special going on and he didn’t want me to miss it.”

“What was it?”

“The prince had come to our little abbey to give blessings to those torn apart by war. Simon pushed me through the crowd and I stumbled on the floor before the most beautiful man I ever met. I sniffled and cried at his presence and he knelt before me and took my hands.” Alteir licked his lips. “I couldn’t even look at him because of how miraculous he was.”

“So, what did you do?” The boy Lyr leaned away to look up at Alteir.

“Nothing. I felt his warm hand upon my chin and he lifted my eyes to meet his. ‘Strong you are, against all else. Stronger than me, stronger than even my father, I can see it in your eyes.’ He said in a whisper for my ears only. He plucked an earring from his ear and pressed it to my palm. ‘Join me.’ He pressed his lips to my ear again. ‘When you grow and see the fourteenth year of your life, join me at the castle. You will become a knight and serve me when I’m king.’”

“Wow, that’s amazing. What did you say?” Lyr bounced excitedly.

“The stupidest thing ever, but it turned out to be the best mistake I ever made. I looked over my shoulder and then back to him. ‘Not without Simon, I said.’ The prince just laughed and plucked his other earring free and handed to me. ‘Then I gift this to him and you shall both serve me.’”

“That’s incredible.”

“It is and it was. It wasn’t until years later that Prince Reiner told me that sometimes the strongest families are the ones you pick, not the ones you’re born into you.” Alteir chuckled.

“You picked me.” The words didn’t come from the boy; they came from Lyr, who despite the tears in his eyes was smiling.

“I did,” Alteir looked up at him and smiled. “Because I saw myself in you and I wanted you to have the chances I did.”

“Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. I know how much it means to you, because this is a dream or more it’s a memory of a significant time in your life. I’m honored to hold such a precious part of your memory. Unfortunately, it’s time to wake up, Lyr, and start a new life with your new family.”

The boy Lyr disappeared as Alteir got up from his chair to embrace his son. The warm feeling radiated through him as he wept.

***

Then Lyr woke up with warm tears streaming down his face. He was in Bok and Buma’s house, in the same bed that he’d become intimate with. Rose slept peacefully, bundled up in the blankets next to him. Bok, oddly, slept at the foot of their bed like a faithful watchdog.

Lyr shifted and sat up, feeling the bandages at his back pull tighter until they stung the wounds on his back. The thing that resembled Alteir had left his back a mass of bloody meat but Buma still managed to patch him up. Luckily, the cuts weren’t as deep as they first appeared and things should heal normally with time.

The calico got up from the bed and pulled his pants on, tying them tight at his waist before stepping outside into the cool misty morning. A gray haze covered the world as fog swept in from the ocean. The sun hadn’t managed to break free of the horizon yet, leaving everything hollowed and peaceful.

“Time to get to work,” Lyr’s voice was a scratchy whisper from his dry throat.

The boy started off down the beach to the communal fire pit. One by one, he stacked the logs perfectly, tending to them with a thin layer of treated whale fat. It barely took three strikes of his tinder lighter to catch a spark. Vigilantly he stoked those embers. This fire was important, after all. This fire was for Alteir and he aimed to make it the biggest and the best he could.

“A lonely funeral pyre,” A warm voice came from behind.

Lyr turned to see Rose running a hand across his, soot-coated hand across his sweaty brow. “For Alteir.”

“I know,” Rose smiled. “I heard you talking about him last night in your sleep.”

“I hope I didn’t keep you up.”

“No, my dreams are the reason I was up. They’ve become hard to deal with of late.” Rose hugged her body under the thin sheet of fabric she wore. “Sadness or guilt, perhaps. I don’t know why the whispers of the past hound me so.”

“Maybe,” Lyr paused and took her hand. “You should put your past to rest in the funeral pyre.”

Rose stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. His fur smelled warm and smoky thanks to the fire. It warmed her all the way through. Her lingering caress at the back of his neck brought a purr to his throat. The sound excited her. She knew he was right; it was time to face those demons that chased her. It was time to let go of her father and Simon, to grieve for them and let them rest. She’d been fighting with her emotions for so long; she didn’t know how to deal with them.

“If you need more time, we’ve got nothing but,” Lyr kissed her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Rose sniffled and pushed a kiss to his neck. “Then I will take the option of more time, there are still a million things weighing heavy on my mind.”

“Then it’s yours.”

Rose leaned back and looked into his eyes. “What are we going to do, Lyr?”

Lyr narrowed his eyes for a second and they slowly grew wide as if he’d not fully realized everything they’d left behind. What were they going to do?

“Maybe you can go home, become queen?” A faint smile found its way to Lyr’s lips. “I would make a rather handsome king, don’t you think?”

“You would.” Rose giggled. “But I don’t want that life anymore. Monarchies come and go. You said that. They always have contingency plans. For all that matters now, Princess Roslynda and her handsome knight, Lyr, are dead.”

“So where do you suppose we go, then?” Lyr cocked his head. “I’ve already pledged myself to you, not-princess Rose.”

Rose giggled again and caressed a finger along the bandages wrapped across his chest. “Anywhere, huh?”

“It’s a big wide world out there just waiting for us to come and discover it.” Lyr lifted her hand to his lips.

“Perhaps you both will allow me to hire you on?” A young voice peaked behind them.

They both turned to see Kia walked down the beach towards them. Her lime green and pink sash caught the wind, fluttering out around her small but muscular body.

“Hiring us?” Lyr smirked.

“I’m the caravan driver now and Da said he’d feel better if I hired some muscle.” There was a shrewd tone in her voice that sounded more like Bok than Buma. “I figured you two aren’t too incompetent, and it would be fun to see the world with you.”

“And your father-”

Kia interrupted Rose with a spit into the sand. “Fine with it, told me last night with his ‘Oh, I’m too old for this adventuring stuff,’ this and ‘Miss my darling family,’ that. It was pretty pathetic, you’d have loved it.” She winked at Lyr.

Lyr snickered and nodded. “Damn shame I missed it, now.”

“It is,” Kia held out her hand. “What do you say?”

“Ten percent take a month, for each of us, food and board included.” Rose looked at her from the corner of her eye.

“Twenty percent? Hell no,” Kia laughed. “Sixteen at most and maybe I’ll feed you, if you’re good.”

“Sixteen? Deal.” Rose shook her hand. “And food will be included.”

“And food will be included.” Kia gave a sharp snap of her wrist.

“Sounds like the start of a beautiful partnership.” Lyr chewed his bottom lips.

“It will be, once you all fix the wagon and repaint it.” Kia turned and started back up the beach. “Chop chop, I own your asses now. I’d like to be gone by the beginning of next week. Places to go, things to sell, blah blah blah.” She called back to them.

“Could it be that she’s actually worse than her stubby goblin of a father?” Rose gave Lyr a sideways glance.

“I think so.”

“We may have made a huge mistake.”

“I think so.” The two of them started back up the beach arm in arm, following after Kia.

If it was a mistake, they’d weather it together. No matter how bad of a storm rolled in, how cold the winter became, or how outlandish the odds were, they would find a way to overcome it all as long as they did it together, as a family.

The End


End file.
